I Do, But Only For You
by comeonbabyplaymesomething
Summary: Veronica Mars returns to Neptune for a wedding, harboring lots of secrets.  Logan Echolls never left, but he's also in the wedding and has several things he'd rather not share with the maid of honor.  But really, what else could anyone expect?
1. Decisions, Decisions

**This has literally been stuck in my head for years. It's probably been done before and it definitely veers from my usual genre. But I hope everyone whose still a little obsessed with Veronica Mars enjoys it. **

**Disclaimer: Yeah right. And also I wish. But I don't own anything. **

**Chapter 1**

Decisions, Decisions

She doesn't know if she ever really expected them to work out. If in the long twisting road of her future she had really planned on a white dress and a shiny ring. She hasn't really ever thought about someone in a big picture sense. Except Duncan, and that was when she was sixteen going on ten.

She's twenty seven now. And most everyone she knows is settled down or at least thinking about it. It's two months to her birthday. She'll be thirty soon, and she's only really ever had one man interested in making her his wife. And that went out the window two months after her college graduation. When she'd attempted to return his oversized ring and moved thousands of miles away.

For the most part she succeeds at suppressing Logan and all of the memories his name stirs in her. But as she stands in her condo kitchen gaping at her best friend's wedding invitation it all comes back with blinding clarity. Logan's blank face as she'd told him the FBI had made her offer she couldn't refuse. That their lives were going in completely different directions. That she wouldn't hold him back from his dreams no more then she would allow him to hold her back from her's. She'd thrown out every lie she could think of. And the worst part was that he didn't even look surprised.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Miss. Cindy Mackenzie and Mr. Richard Cassablancas. She can't say she's shocked. And it's not just because she was asked to be maid of honor over three month ago. Mac and Dick had been dancing around each other since right after freshman year. As a junior when Veronica, Mac, and Parker had all shared a room everyone who had visited even sporadically had broken up their trysts at least once.

They had very little in common. But at the end of the day they had achieved what Logan and Veronica never could, they had grown together. Not apart. Despite all odds they had overcome studio apartments, promotions and firings, and countless Neptune gossips who couldn't believe an heir with Dick's face would settle for a computer nerd who used to screw his murdering little brother.

Veronica sighs, leans her forehead against her cool granite countertops and thinks. She has seen Logan Echolls' a total of three times since he became her jilted finance. Over her shoulder at one of Wallace's Laker games. At Mac's website launch party when she had fled no more then six minutes later. And their last meeting two months ago at Mac and Dick's engagement party had gone horribly wrong. She didn't want to dwell, but getting her photo taken sneaking out of her internationally famous ex boyfriend's sprawling estate with her heels in one hand and clutch purse in the other wasn't one of her finest moments.

He had maddeningly decided to become an actor. For motives she had always been too afraid to question. He was a clever boy with a beautiful and expressive face. His Hollywood legacy was unparalleled and he had the money to finance any indie movie that drew his interest.

But it wouldn't be fair to say Logan had bought his way in. Like everything else acting came easily. Sophomore year he had starred in a Hearst spring play as a lark and nailed every line. She had literally not recognized him at any one of the countless rehearsals she had sat through. His face, his expressions that she knew by heart melted away as he became a new person.

He'd smiled at her backstage after the curtain fell on opening night. And she knew. Just knew that he'd caught the bug. Or buzz. But unlike his parents it wasn't for the fame or money or power. It was because he genuinely and completely adored harnessing someone else's identity and making it his own. It had unnerved her at first. But there were so few things Logan Echolls allowed himself to love anymore. And he was always real with her.

He had done the struggling actor bit for all of ten seconds before an agent recognized his raw talent and extremely bankable last name. At twenty he dropped out of college and became Hollywood's next It kid. He made three movies in two years and suddenly she had a campus golf cart trailing her from class to class so photographers weren't perpetually blinding her with digital camera flashes.

She loved him. And so she paid her dues for two years as Logan "Superstar" Echolls' devoted girlfriend. She went to every event she could, glittering from head to toe. She was beautiful and young, but she flipped off the camera every chance she got and didn't answer a single personal question. She had a very volatile relationship with the media that was seemingly devoted to infringing on her personal privacy.

It wasn't exactly the life for someone who wanted to specialize in covert affairs and when she had once again began interning for the FBI her supervisor had sat her down. They said they would be pleased to offer her a job, but she had to make a choice. She had a knack for grabbing headlines and if she wanted to make any headway in her dream career that had to stop.

Basically they were telling her she had to choose between her job and being a famous actor's wife. And she had chosen. Wrong, she had decided after half a decade. She had chosen wrong. But she would never admit it. Especially not to Logan.

She had broken up with him. Completed her training in Virginia and relocated to New York City. She had dyed her hair brown and cut it completely differently, growing it out long and curly and letting a thick line of bangs fall nearly into her eyes. She had become invisible and perpetually single. And it had been fine for awhile. Until her job stopped being exciting and started becoming depressing. And coming home to an empty apartment wasn't exactly helping.

Finally, with her head ringing and racing, she completes the inevitable. She checks yes and chooses the chicken. No guest. She's avoiding the man she had infrequently referred to as her boyfriend. Mac and Wallace called him Manhattan guy but his name was Jackson. Recently Veronica has taken to calling him a mistake.

She is Mac's maid of honor. Logan is Dick's best man. She has about a million secrets she'd trying to hide from the entire wedding party. But she's Veronica Mars, and lying is pretty much her specialty.

**Hopefully you enjoyed. Review if you did. Update to come soon.**


	2. Return Address

**Chapter 2**

Return Address

It's Monday morning and LAX is surprisingly quiet. Her hair is mussed from her flight and she pushes her sunglasses higher on the bridge of her nose as she throws on a ratty baseball cap.

She's prepared for paparazzi, but is still taken completely off guard at baggage claim. Keith Mars, his arm slung over his wife's shoulder, grins when he catches a glimpse of his daughter's attempts at being inconspicuous. Wallace stands next to his mother. It's still a little weird to both he and Veronica that they're now step siblings. But its been five years and they're now grasping at acceptance. He always crashes at her apartment when he plays the Knicks. And they speak on the phone at least three times a week.

They see each other even more frequently now that he's married Jackie, who visits her mother constantly in the city. Her son, Ethan, is eleven now and recently received a little sister near Christmas. Naomi Alicia Fennel is Veronica's goddaughter. And she's seen the girl too few times since her birth.

When she sees the baby in her mother's arms, waiting for her godmother to arrive guilt grips her heart ferociously. She is a coward. Selfish and ungrateful, especially to those that love her. To those that care the most.

She bites her lip to keep from crying as he father beams and pull into his arms. Then Alicia. Then Jackie and Naomi. And finally Wallace. Who squeezes for just a second too long. In the past five years, nearly six, she has stayed in California for a grand total of five nights. She's committed to a full week this time. More then every other visit combined.

"Mac wanted to come," he excuses as he pulls away, "but she had to call an emergency meeting. Something about software-"

"He tends to tune out when she starts speaking in computer," Jack interrupts with a smile, shifting her daughter higher up on her hip.

"No, I think this is _definitely_ a large enough crowd," Veronica grumbles as she moves to find her bag, she can't suppress her smile though.

"Back up girl," Wallace orders as he side steps her and pulls her gray suitcase off the baggage claim machine, "I got this. Go see my daughter, she's forgetting what you like already."

As Veronica takes the infant out of her mother's arms carefully, recalling fleetingly that this is the first time she's held a child since Lilly Kane (the second), Naomi gifts her with a large and toothless smile. Veronica's dad reaches forward to squeeze her arm, "You look good kid."

"Brunette has always suited you," Alicia adds. And it may or may not be a lie. Veronica's had brown hair for so long that she almost forgets what it was like to be a natural blonde. But she still catches her family and friends looking at her out of the corner of their eyes'. It drives Logan insane. She knows because eight weeks ago they had spent quite a bit of time talking, arguing actually, about it in his bed. His accusation was that it was just another way for her to hide. He had thrown that out right before she had made her infamous escape.

It's for that reason that she's wearing her ridiculous get up. LAX is constantly crawling with with reporters and she's not about to let anyone know that Logan Echolls' perpetually lost love is back in town yet again. This is Mac's special week and she refuses to overshadow it with her dumbass drama.

She allows herself to be loaded into Wallace's Escalade and driven home. She naps on her father's shoulder. And for the first time since falling asleep in Logan's arms two months ago she doesn't have a single chill inducing dream.

It almost convinces her that her recent decision is the correct one. That leaving Manhattan and her job, starting down an entirely new career path and returning to California will not be fraught completely with disaster. Only Mac is entirely aware of her intentions. And the bride to be has been sworn to secrecy. Veronica's attempting to keep all hell from breaking loose until after the wedding.

When she wakes up at her father's home, a four bedroom bungalow a few blocks away from the beach, she sighs and grips her Keith's hand. She'd hated Neptune. Couldn't wait to get out. But somehow she'd ended up going to college only a few miles away. And when she had finally "escaped" she'd thought about home constantly. Well not really about the place but the people that populated it. She'd felt them missing like a physical ache. And no amount of postcards or phone calls or video chats could ever fill that particular void.

It's ludicrous really. Completely ridiculous. But as she walks into a house she doesn't really recognize with her makeshift family in tow she realizes she hasn't felt more at home in forever. Or, more specifically, since she decided to leave in the first place.

* * *

><p>After Mac's emergency software meeting she drags Veronica to a fancy French bridal boutique for an emergency dress fitting. Veronica's dress is strapless and ruby red. Classic and understated just like Mac. Who is gorgeous, her hair pinned up in a fancy bun and light pink dress shirt tucked into her dark gray pencil skirt. Her stilettos are at least five inches tall and click against the expensive marble floor as the owner prattles on about Mac's perfect waist.<p>

Finally Mac slams the door and groans, "Thank _God_ this wedding is in a week. It's taking all the internal strength I have not to go Bridezilla on that two faced French impostor. Yeah right her name's Francesca, I looked it up, she was born three miles away. And until she opened this shop she went by Franky Newman."

Veronica's voice is syrupy sweet as she comments wryly, "Well she may be an American native, but Franky seems to have mastered the art of French kissing your ass."

"She's expecting Dick's old money and my new money to roll down hill," Mac comments with a playful eye roll as Veronica pulls closed a cloth partition to separate them and begins to shrug out of her ripped jeans and black tank top. The bride takes a seat on a plush armchair and crosses her legs at the ankle.

Veronica shrugs into her dress and concludes, "Little does she know you don't overly compensate French posers."

As she adjusts the gown Veronica hears her cellphone vibrate treacherously in her pocket. She knows whose calling. The same person whose responsible for the other fifty three missed calls and her full voicemail. Rolling her eyes Veronica pulls the battered piece of FBI equipment from her pants, eyeing it stoically before turning it off. Then she straightens and draws back the curtain with flourish and without glancing in the mirror.

Mac assesses her with blank eyes and then her face breaks out into a wide smile as she shakes her head, "No, she definitely earns every penny," her head tilts as she whispers teasingly, "You look like a princess."

Veronica blanches as she finally turns to assess herself in the mirror, "Says Corporate Barbie." She does look pretty though, it's hard to deny. But this is about Mac, and Veronica catches her eye in the mirror as she twirls, asking pointedly,"Does Dick know how lucky he is?"

Mac blinks, and then her happy smile switches to a serene one as she nods, "Yeah, I think he definitely does." Then she turns her attention back to her iPhone and begins typing furiously as she mumbles under her breath, "And if not our prenup will remind him."

Veronica snorts despite herself and then looks back over her shoulder, a wicked eyebrow raised, "You know what? I really missed you."

"That makes two of us," Mac comments quietly again before raising her head from her cellphone. She throws the device back into her purse and crosses her arms appraisingly, "So I know what I think of the dress. But you're being awfully quiet V."

Veronica scrunches her nose and puts her hand on her hip calculatingly, "It wasn't exactly what I requested."

Mac rolls her eyes, "A Harry Potter style invisibility cloak would clash with my flower arrangements.

"But definitely cut down on the inevitable bar room brawls," Veronica counters dryly.

"You have to talk to Logan about all of this at some point Veronica," Mac exclaims exasperatedly, "I know you insisted on everything being anonymous, but the people that know you are gonna be able to tell. And frankly, your pseudonym isn't that clever."

Veronica closes her eyes and rubs her temples with her palms frantically, "I'm not telling Logan anything. At least not until you and Dick are safely on your flight to Florence."

"Well it's the only thing I'm going to be thinking about this week anyway," Mac mumbles with a shrug.

Veronica sighs in frustration, and then marches forward and grips her friend by the shoulders so that she can look her in the eye, "Then stop. This is _my_ problem Mac. My decisions and my mistakes. Logan is allowed to be mad at me and I'm allowed to be mad at him. You're marrying a man who you love and who loves you. That's _all_ you should be thinking about."

Mac grips Veronica's wrists, a look of shock on her face as a tear slides down her cheek, "I think this is the moment. The bride and maid of honor moment."

Mac tightens her grip, "It's good to have you back Bond."

"Likewise Q."

* * *

><p>Logan Echolls discovers that the love of his life has returned to their hometown during a call with his agent. Nadine Frasier is a forty five year old hardass who runs Logan's career with in a ruthless, authoritative manor. Most people in the business see her as a cut throat bitch. But Logan, like most of her important clients, knows a completely different side of her. She values her client's trust above anything else. She is blatantly honest and always speaks her mind, traits Logan has always known were rare in the Hollywood industry.<p>

Nadine doesn't sugar coat and she doesn't have time for small talk, "Veronica Mars was spotted at LAX four hours ago. Still sporting that ridiculous brown hair. Your publicist managed to keep it out of the headlines, but I need to know right now if we're going to have another problem."

It takes Logan a minute to process the information, but after that his composure is flawless. If there's one thing his childhood had taught him it was how to retain a brave face in the most trying of circumstances. Indifference and sharp wit have always worked before. So he replies evenly and with a slightly bitter smile, "Nadine, two months ago Veronica scaled the six foot fence in front of my house just to get away from me. I'd say our love story has concluded. Happy ending most certainly sold separately."

Nadine scoffs, "Please don't bullshit me Echolls. Your bluster might work on most girls but you should know by now that I'm immune. You've had Veronica in your system since the day we met. And you know I like her, that prickly personality aside, but she has always, will always, driven you crazy. She has this puppet master like ability to draw out both the best and _worst_ aspects of your personality. And it'd be a shame to lie to me and yourself and say that she's something you can just move on from."

Nadine hesitates and then her voice softens, taking on a mothering tone, "Now you're worth weathering the Mars storm for, but it'd be nice to have a little warning so I can build us some shelter."

Logan sighs, he's done with this topic. All he can picture is his deceptive pit bull of an ex girlfriend pulling on her green cocktail dress and turning away over and over. She'd dropped over a fence and into a street filled with paparazzi to escape him then. Abandoned her family and the only home she'd ever known years before that. She was always running away, and he was finished chasing after her. Whether it made his heart clutch like a vice or not.

"Nadine," Logan barks, clutching his forehead in his hand, "You're a good agent. But you're not my shrink. Veronica and I are a complicated fucking _mess_. I'll give you that. She's in town because this weekend our two best friends happen to be coming together in unholy matrimony. I didn't tell you because for obvious reasons I wanted to avoid this conversation."

The dial tone is thick in both agent and actor's ears as they sit at desk and poolside respectively. Both blink a few times before muttering frustratedly, "Fuck."

After a few more seconds of contemplation Logan punches in the recently familiar phone number of Eli Navarro. The man answers on the first ring with a brisk, "What do you want?"

Logan's voice is decidedly less calm now, "Our favorite ex PI is back in town. We need to finish this. _Now_."

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed yesterday! I'd list your names but my laptop is rapidly running out of battery. Please repeat your good behavior though. **


	3. Hit and Run

**I was sick yesterday. Which meant no work for me and an update for this story. I've decided to start including dates and times so this stops being so confusing.**

**Chapter 3**

Hit and Run

_12:15 pm, Monday September 3_

They finish the fitting. Although it does involves a lot of complimentary champagne. On their way back to Keith's Mac has to drop by her house to pick up some papers. The place she shares with Dick is right on the ocean and consists of mostly glass walls. It's gorgeous and modern and way oversized for a couple their age. But it is undeniably beautiful.

Veronica lets out a low whistle, "_Nice job_." And Mac laughs as she hops out of her eco friendly car and starts down the sandstone path.

Veronica takes another look around the pristine landscape and the whitecaps falling onto the sandy shore. California has a different smell, a different look, then any other place in the world.

She catches up with Mac at the front door as she slips her key in the lock, "Open," the girl muses in a whisper, "Dick must be home."

When the door slams shut there's a call from the kitchen, "Is that you MC?"

"MC?" Veronica questions as the two girls walk towards Dick's voice.

"It's nothing," Mac shushes over her shoulder, actually blushing as she enters the kitchen.

"Actually it stands for Master and Commander. She's just shy," Dick corrects with a cocky grin. The kitchen is immaculate with dark wood cabinetry and and granite countertops. Dick, whose sandy hair is still shaggy but now cut much closer to his head, is leaning against the kitchen island in a business suit eating yogurt. He nods at the tiny brunette intruder standing next to his soon to be wife, "Hey Veronica. Long time no insult."

"Missed you too, Dick," Veronica nods, watching as Mac crosses the floor and kisses her fiancee on the cheek.

"What are you doing home," Mac questions as she steals his spoon and takes a bite out of the container Dick's clutching.

Dick starts talking about presentation notes and a board meeting. Something along those lines. Veronica's attention is elsewhere. There is cluster of photos above the stainless steal stove. Mac and Dick at graduation. Mac and Dick posing with Mac's family at a NASCAR race. Mac and Dick sharing the same chaise on a beach. Mac and Dick waving at what most have been a work event. Mac sleeping on Dick's shoulder, hair falling in her face. A whole life. Mapped out in pretty snapshots and stolen moments.

Dick catches Veronica's attention once more when he leans into Mac and sniffs her breath. "Obviously the fitting was more fun then it sounded," Dick alleges, his face lighting up with an amused smile.

Mac takes a step back and covers her mouth, eyes wide, "You can tell? It was just two glasses. Shoot, I have to go brush my teeth."

"Day drinking," Dick concludes, shaking his head slightly with a laugh as he watches Mac retreat down the hall, "Reason number million and one we're getting married on Saturday."

And then his pretty blonde head swivels back to regard the pretty brunette, "So Ronnie, I'm assuming you're going to try to keep this trip business as usual."

Veronica crosses her arms over her chest, tilting her head curiously, "What exactly do you think my business is, Dick?"

"Murder, mayhem, and destruction. But you're also _really_ good at mind fucking my best friend," Dick sums up with a shrug, throwing his yogurt into the garbage can.

Veronica rolls her eyes, "I got off a plane four hours ago. How could I possibly have upset Logan's delicate psyche already?"

Dick snorts and explains, "Mac's only told me a little about your new life plan, but I'm pretty sure Logan's gonna be pissed about ninety eight percent of it."

"Logan and I are broken up," Veronica exclaims heatedly, already getting tired of explaining this, "We've been broken up for nearly _six years_. I don't have to consult him with my life decisions because he's no longer apart of it."

"See you'd think that," Dick muses, regarding her with an unconvinced gaze, "But considering you and Logan alternate from clawing at each other like rabid dogs to crawling towards each other like junkies looking for a fix, I'm concerned. Not for myself, which is new. But for Mac Attack, whose been planning this wedding for months. She's made it perfect. Exactly how she wants it. And I want it to be perfect for her. She _deserves_ it."

Veronica laughs, flashing Dick with a wry smile, "Dick, there is nothing I want more then to avoid my problems with Logan _and_ to make Mac's wedding perfect." Veronica hesitates before adding, "You really love her." She's not sure if it's a question or a statement.

Dick's face is completely serious as he states, "She saved my life. _Gave_ me a life. Love doesn't cover it Ronnie." And then he softens, dragging a hand over his face as he asks, "Promise me you'll do your best not to ruin this for her."

"I promise," Veronica answers, holding a sarcastic hand over her heart, "Anything else?"

"Yeah," Dick replies, cocky grin returning, "LM Duncan is a stupid name and you were hotter as a blonde."

And as Veronica blinks Mac appears in the doorway to her right. "I have a staff meeting in half an hour. Let's motor Mars.""Bye babe," Mac whispers as she leans across the island, latching onto Dick's tie to pull him in for a kiss, "Don't forget we have Wallace's thing tonight. And you promised to pick Piz and Parker up at the airport at six."

"They're still together?" Veronica balks, remembering vaguely that the twin blondes had both moved to Chicago and briefly had a fling. Also remembering with horror Wallace mentioning something about a dinner at his house. She'd only barely believed that he was in the wedding party himself. She'd nearly forgotten that when Dick began work at the sports agency he is still currently employed at, Wallace had been his first big client.

Parker is also in the wedding party. Along with two other pairs of Dick and Mac's obligatory work friends who will only be making appearances at Friday's rehearsal and Saturday's big event. The Thursday night bachelor and bachelorette party will be a joint operation, supposedly to be planned by both maid of honor and best man. However a short and vague phone message from Logan's assistant a month ago had made it clear that he would be handling it. Veronica had been too frazzled at the time to summon the energy to fight him on it. At this point she was just hoping for the best.

Dick answers Veronica's question with a solemn nod, "Going on a year now. He's her plus one," Then with a sly smile he adds, "This week is shaping up to go really well for you Ron."

Mac gives him a sharp look, "Be nice."

Dick holds up his hands, "Just saying what everyone's thinking."

"Always a pleasure Dick," Veronica replies as Mac grabs her hand and leads her out the front door.

* * *

><p><em>2:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

There are many place Logan Echolls' hates being. He has never been fond of the Nepturne Sheriff's department, the high school he graduated from , or any room that his now deceased father happened to be occupying. He'd currently rather be any of those places. Anything to get out of Navarro Investigations where he's currently going over a contract with a man who used to wear a lot of leather and go by the name of Weevil.

The city of Neptune had only been able to stomach Vinnie Van Lowe as their Sheriff for a year before Keith Mars had been reelected. In that time Keith had found it in his heart to give Eli another chance. It had been a rough training period, but Weevil had been looking for a fresh start. He had recently discovered he was going to be a father. And his job as a janitor was barely enough for him to survive on let alone his impending baby daughter and her mother, his now ex wife Evangeline.

By the time Keith had left to rejoin the right side of the law Weevil had known enough to hold down the fort. Occasionally it had been with Veronica's help, that is before she skipped town. He had the unique perspective of a reformed criminal and he worked hard to keep him temper in check. His specialty was bail jumpers, but he took on side jobs often.

Logan's was a side job.

"Standard confidentiality agreement. You give him the money, he agrees to keep everything he knows quiet," Weevil explains.

Logan smiles, "My lawyer explained all the fine print Weevs, But thanks for taking the time to sound out all those big words for me."

Weevil's nonplussed, leaning back in his chair he grins, "Feeling the strain of parting with all that change already Echolls? Ten million's a lot for information that barely even involves you."

Logan waves his hand, trying to imagine a world where he could wave away his problems just as easily, "I'll do a car commercial. Make this money up in about a day. Any movement on your other research project?"

Weevil rubs his forehead and answers, "Got a lead on her in New Mexico, but she's not making herself easy to find."

Logan sighs and his voice is agitated when he replies, "It looks like I'm handing out money to two imbeciles this week. It's been six months and all you have for me is New Mexico? I should have just fucking _facebooked_ her."

Weevil shrugs, "She must have picked up some tricks."

"Or you're just not that hard to outsmart," Logan counters.

Weevil rolls his eyes and argues, "I'm not the one that came here six months ago needing a background check, a phone tap, and a missing person located. I'd say two out of three is a pretty good record at this point."

"Well you're oh for three on finding anything useful," Logan hisses.

"This isn't the movies Echolls," Weevil exclaims, "Not every guy's got a fucking skeleton. Some of them are just old fashioned assholes looking to make an easy buck."

"I might as well get a dollar sign tattooed on my goddamn forehead," Logan snaps as a reply.

"Like I said, this information has almost nothing to do with you," Weevil reiterates, adding, "You sure it's worth it?"

Logan sighs but doesn't hesitate, "Just get the asshole to sign the papers."

* * *

><p><em>2:30 pm Monday September 3<em>

Veronica arrives at Navarro Investigations just as Logan is leaving. And they cross paths in the hall, him caught in the doorway with her staring at him blankly at the foot of the stairs.

"What are you doing here?" she blurts out, on the defensive despite her best efforts to remain calm.

"I'm sorry," Logan begins, slamming the door as he exits the office, "Are you mistaking me with someone whose required to answer your personal questions? Because last time I checked my whereabouts and motives fall directly into the none of your business category."

She wants to snap back at him, throw out a barb to compete with his. But she remembers her promises to Mac, Dick, and herself. And so she sighs, "So we're not even going to try? Just skip right to the respective snarling?"

Logan crosses his arms, "What do you want to try Veronica? You seem to only have one life strategy, pulling people in and then running away as quickly as possible."

She closes the distance between them, until they are barely a foot apart, "I'm not going anywhere Logan. So you're gonna need to adopt a new self righteous mantra."

"No," he smiles, "I think I'll keep my piss poor attitude right where it is thanks."

He sidesteps past her and heads for the stairs, only pausing to add, "Can't wait to catch up at Wallace's dinner tonight."

She takes a deep breath before heading into the old office. It looks about the same. A new couch and front desk, but pretty much still the same old room she'd spent most of her high school career in.

"Hello Eli," Veronica exclaims, knocking softly on his office door, "How's it going filling those very big shoes?"

Weevil grins, "I'm no Keith Mars but," he sets his feet up on his desk and shrugs, "size sixteens, and they fit like a glove. Good to have you back Mars."

"Good to be back Weevil," Veronica sighs flopping into the chair across from his desk, "How's Mia?"

Weevil beams, the smile that belongs solely to a father talking about his daughter, "She's good. She's in second grade now. Reads like a frickin champ." He leans forward to pick up a picture of his smiling daughter and hand it to Veronica.

"Good looking kid Navarro," Veronica compliments, "must be her mother's genes."

"Must be," Weevil agrees with a solemn nod. Evangeline was the mother of his child. She had also been a recovering drug addict when the two of them had a baby and married. She had relapsed two years after Mia was born. Weevil had divorced her after she refused rehab and eventually gained sole custody. She had ODed three days after Mia's fourth birthday and to this day Weevil will only speak about four words on the subject.

"So," Veronica begins, her head tilting just so, smile placed perfectly on her lips, "What was Logan in here for?"

Weevil looks at her blankly for a minute before breaking out into laughter, "It's been too long Mars. I think you're charms wore off during our time apart. You know I can't talk to you about clients. Not even if you flip your hair."

"But you admit he's a client," Veronica infers slyly.

Weevil is saved by his cellphone, which rings just as he's about to respond. He mutters something that sounds like 'thank God' and waves her out of his office.

"We'll talk later," Veronica says in way of a goodbye as she exits the room.

As she leaves the building and heads to the car she commandeered from Alicia she hazards a glance at her cellphone. Five fresh missed calls from Jackson. Her ex boyfriend and ex partner. She's going to have to talk to her Dad about changing her phone number.

**This was a long one. Review as a reward?**


	4. The Worst One

**A bunch of people asked if I was going to write about the morning after scene between Logan and Veronica that I keep referencing. So here it is plus a little extra and I hope you like it.**

**Chapter 4**

The Worst One

_7:00 am Sunday July 1_

She wakes up early. Earlier then Logan. Light is streaming in through the curtains as she raises her aching head from the pillow. Her hang over is fierce but it doesn't dull any of her memories from the previous night. Those she retains with startling clarity.

It had started with venom. With nasty comments and hateful banter. But there was alcohol, and by the end of the night hurt had turned to nostalgia, spite to passion. When all else failed they had always been flawless at one thing. So somehow she had ended up in the back of a limo with half her clothes off. Then pressed up against Logan's front door and in his bed. And unfortunately for Veronica Logan has withstood the test of time. He was as flawless as ever.

She can hear her phone vibrating in her purse. She was supposed to come home last night. Her father must be worried. She was also supposed to board a six am flight this morning. Jackson must be worried. Not to mention that she is seven weeks into a serial kidnapping case involving three missing little girls. Probably three dead little girls. She tries to avoid deciding if her cynicism comes from her past job experience or her past life experience.

She yawns. Rubs the sleep from her eyes. Begins to feel the weight and guilt settle back onto her. One day off and already she's falling back into a life that doesn't belong to her. That she'd run from in the first place. Fucking with Logan is inexcusable. They are supposed to be adults. _She_ is supposed to be over this.

But she's not. Never has been. She has known Logan Echolls since she was a child. Grown up with him and grown to love him more then she'd ever imagined. She thought it would go away, had been wishing for that love to disappear for _so_ long. But five years later she still feels it in the pit of her stomach, with the same intensity as when she used to wear his ring on her finger.

She's blaming her slip on the faces of those little girls she's searching for. Stuck inside her head on a never ending loop. The problem is that there were other little girls before that. And murdered women. And broken little boys. There will always be more. And she is getting sick of constantly seeing the worst humanity has to offer.

His arms are warm around her. Holding her tight against him. He would forgive her, he would forgive her for everything. Maybe he already does. But she would ruin it. She always does.

His eyes open as she is pulling up the zipper of her dress. And he squints and then sits up and stretches as he sighs, "I guess I should be grateful you waited until dawn to remember your complete and total aversion to me."

"Last time I checked you weren't particularly fond of me either," Veronica mumbles as she lifts Logan's pants in an attempt to find her missing heel.

He runs a hand through his already extremely tousled hair and it's nearly enough to make her want to crawl under the covers and hide away with him for the rest of her life. But the look on his face now is anything but inviting, "I wanted to marry you. Stupidly I assumed you saying yes when I proposed meant that you felt the same way. Given that you lied to and abandoned me I think my hostility is pretty damn justified."

She straightens, puts her shoe search on hold to participate in the fight he is obviously looking for. Her look is incredulous as she crosses her arms over her silk clad chest, "Is that what you think? I didn't lie to you Logan. I was _twenty two_, I made a mistake."

He rolls his eyes and sneers, "When you agreed to marry me or when you left me?"

She avoids the pointed and potentially valid question. But as sad as her job makes her, she can't regret trying. Knowing she was wrong now is so much better then always wondering what she would have felt. And so she replies exasperatedly, "I'm not sorry Logan. I made the right decision for myself at the time. Marrying you would have meant giving up everything."

Logan stares at her for a full minute. Just looks at her. Jaw clenched and arms crossed, with that stupid brown hair falling all around her. He seems to be permanently torn between the desire to kiss or kill her. He has never loved anyone the way he loves her. But she is exhausting and stubborn and completely incapable of admitting when she's wrong. And it's too much to deal with so early and so hungover. His voice is reserved when he accuses, "Lets just be honest. You couldn't make that sacrifice for me and you were too afraid to ask me to make it for you."

But she's not ready to give up her indignation so easily. "And you would have?" She questions skeptically before adding, "You would have given up the first career path that had ever made you even slightly happy to become some nobody in New York?"

There is something terrible in his eyes. And she sees it just before he blinks it away. There is only one thing that has ever made him happier then acting, and that is her. His face is blank as he shrugs, "I guess we'll never know."

Veronica looks away and then begins the search for her stiletto again. Anything to distract her from what's going on with Logan's face. This was such a mistake. She can't continue to avoid her regrets when they are staring at her with defeated eyes. And so she baits him flawlessly, "No, we won't. Because I did what was necessary to keep us out of divorce court ten years down the road."

Instantly the flames rekindle in his eyes, "Screw you Veronica. You think what you did was noble? You took the easy way out. It's not even original anymore. You fucked with your hair and threw yourself into a job so you could hide from your own life. Sound familiar?"

Unfortunately he is also a master at pushing _her_ buttons. And when she locates her shoe, which is laughably sticking out of her clutch purse, she finds she can't escape. Cannot allow those to be his last words. So she hisses indignantly, "You want to pretend me being repeatedly humiliated in high school and me turning down your marriage proposal as an adult are similar situations?"

"No," he corrects immediately, "I want to point out your glaring pattern of emotional avoidance. Whenever things get too intense for you, you completely repress your emotions. You don't talk, you don't discuss, you just do whatever you want to do regardless of other people around you. And you know what's really sad? In your warped state of mind you can actually convince yourself you're doing what's best for everyone. That by lying or avoiding you're helping them, and not just further serving yourself."

She contemplates indulging in spiteful applause but instead just smirks venomously, "Wow, I didn't know that before you dropped out of college you managed to get a psychology degree."

He mirrors her expression perfectly, "I may not have graduated, but I deserve a PhD in getting fucked over by Veronica Mars."

Her phone rings again. Her emergency cellphone up to full volume. And she rubs her forehead and sighs. Reality is calling, where she and Logan don't fight anymore because they don't know each other anymore. She is going home and this will be the last time they speak. Maybe for years or forever. She doesn't know whether to be relieved or made miserable by the conclusion. She relents and he can't help but think it's about damn time, "I regret hurting you Logan. I wish that helped."

He rolls his eyes at her lackluster attempts at contrition, "I love you, you fucking sociopath. Still. Maybe always, god help me. But I have _never_ been able to figure out what is so wrong with you that you can't just let me. And I got tired of trying a long time ago."

The emergency phone rings again. And that's not a good sign. It's a terrible sign actually, "I have to go."

And he laughs, and it's bitter and broken and exhausted. He has a great life, an amazing life. And in one day she can come back and screw everything up. Mess with him like it's apart of her goddamn job description. "What a shock," he replies.

And she turns and walks away. Like usual, he thinks cynically.

He has no idea she will be too stubborn to come back and ask him how to use his gate. That she will somehow manage to avoid his maid, chef, and assistant on her mad dash through his mansion. All of whom could have called her a cab and explained the security locks. No, his ridiculous ex fiance decides that is a much better idea to just scale his fence barefoot. Six feet tall with a den of paparazzi lurking like vultures underneath. He wakes up five hours later with her picture featured on every celebrity blog in the fucking country.

Fake brown hair everywhere. Just a perfect little reminder that despite his best efforts she is still running. And still hiding.

* * *

><p><em>4:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

She takes a deep breath before dialing the number. She's decided. She doesn't want to talk to her dad about her Jackson problem. Doesn't really want to talk to anyone about it because it would mean admitting to so much more. She would have to tell him why Jackson is so worried in the first place, why he's so angry too. She hadn't exactly painted an accurate picture to her Dad about her life in New York. Had never really explained to anyone what her job entailed. She had found vague information led to less personal questions. Fewer worried sighs and tense silences. 'It's classified' had become her go to excuse. She had played at being a badass, seen herself as untouchable. But she had been touched, over and over by so many different people and circumstances. And finally, a week and a half ago, it had been enough. A night she would never forget. A night she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried.

He answers on the first ring, "Jesus Christ Veronica, it's about time."

Her voice is even, she's detached herself from Jackson finally. They'd spent so much time together in the city. He was all she'd had to lean on when things went horrible. Which was often. But that had ended two months ago when she'd cheated and gotten caught by the American media. Now he is just an ex who can't take a hint, "You have to stop calling me Jack."

He responds immediately, "You don't just get to quit and then disappear without a word-"

"I do," she interrupts, "After everything that happened, I get to do whatever I want. Anyway, you broke up with me remember?"

"Your half naked body was plastered on every magazine across the country," he exclaims heatedly before adding in a slightly calmer tone, "This isn't about us as a couple anyway, we were friends way before we were together. You're a good agent Veronica, I don't want you to throw everything away just because you had a rough couple of months and a really bad night."

A rough couple of months? It had been a rough couple of years. Actually, Veronica Mars had had a rough life. And she seemed to constantly be making decisions that made it even worse. "It's done Jack," she sighs, "I quit. I was debriefed and I signed the papers. The FBI and I are over."

He sighs and his voice is slightly defeated as he questions, "Is this about the LM Duncan thing? Are you giving up because you think this new career as an anonymous ghost is going to be so much more rewarding?"

"I'm _not_ giving up," she hisses, "I wanted out. And after the screw up with Logan and with launch coming in a few months, they _wanted_ to let me out. I was breaking down Jack. And everybody could see it but you."

"You just have to tell them Veronica," he pleads, "You have to tell them what happened at the hospital after the attack. Explain it to them so they understand. The miscarriage-"

"_Stop_," she cries immediately. Wincing because she is in her father's bathroom in the middle of the day. This is not the time to be screaming into her phone. But also there is the sharp pain in her throat. Breath escaping her in a split second as she recalls her new worst memory.

He is contrite as he tries again, "I know it's not any of my business. I know it wasn't mine, but Veronica-"

And she reaches her breaking point. Her voice is clear and razor sharp, "Jack, I've tried to be nice but I need you to understand that I don't want anything to do with you. Don't call, don't write, don't send up a fucking smoke signal. Leave. Me. Alone." And then she hangs up with a shaky breath.

She resists the urge to throw her phone at the wall. She bites her lip but she can't stop the tears that come. Turning on the shower to cover the noise she lays her head in her hands and sobs until her eyes are raw. A little girl in a white dress turned red with blood. The butt of the gun as it comes down hard on her skull. The blows to the abdomen and back. Cold cement under her cheek as she finally blacks out. The blazing lights in the hospital. The little girl died. And then the secret. The biggest and worst of all. Something not even Mac knows.

A doctor comes in to tell her that something that barely existed in the first place is gone. And when Veronica does the math, she wishes that the man she nearly died trying to apprehend had pulled a few more punches and finished the job.

Finally, she pulls herself together. Takes a few deep breaths to steady herself and looks in the mirror until the red around her eyes fades. Then she turns off the shower and goes into the living room. Darrell is just home from school, he and Keith are sitting on the couch watching a baseball game. Keith catches her staring and pats the seat next to him, "Something wrong kid?"

"No," she lies easily, flawless smile fitted on her face before she even thinks about it, "Everything's fine Dad." She leans against him on the couch, allowing herself to feel ever so slightly safe. He is there always. And she will have to stop forgetting how important that is.

All too soon it is time to get ready to leave for dinner.

* * *

><p><em>6:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

Piz and Parker arrive right on time. Trading a Chicago heat wave for a blistering California summer. They get off the plane discussing Parker's shorts. Piz is of the opinion that they should be illegal in all fifty states. Parker's argument consists of rolling her eyes and threatening to wear sweatpants for the rest of their relationship.

They find Dick at baggage claim right as the discussion is coming to a head. "Dick," Parker demands in way of a greeting, "what do you think of my ass?"

Piz sighs and rubs his forehead while Dick looks perplexed, "Objectively? Bangin'. As a happy, about to be married guy? I've never looked at your ass in my _life_."

Parker shoots her boyfriend a satisfied grin, "See I'm of the delusional opinion that if a man has a great ass in his life he should appreciate it. Not bitch about it."

"I'm not bitching," Piz tries to correct, pulling their bags off the machine, "I'm concerned that the pilot who asked for your name and the flight attendant who wondered if you wanted pretzels _eight_ times, are going to try to follow us to our hotel."

"It's hot outside," Parker observes before adding devilishly, "And _I'm_ hot outside. How is this a problem for you?"

"Maybe Piz's closet is starting to get a little stuffy," Dick comments with a smirk, slinging a grey duffel bag over his shoulder.

"You know what?" Piz states, looking at the two exasperatedly, "I think I'll meet you both at Dick's obnoxiously expensive car." And without further comment he seizes their rolling luggage and heads to the nearest exit.

Parker watches him walk away for a few more seconds before turning to question Dick seriously, "Veronica here yet?"

Dick runs a hand through his hair as he nods, "The hurricane rolled in this morning. Mac's thrilled."

"Logan know?"

Dick grins, a memory flashing before his eyes in a split second, "As of two months ago I'm not aloud to bring up the V word in his presence. But I'm assuming yes. Guys got a lot more connections these days." He hesitates before adding, "What are the odds this is going to turn out fine?"

Parker snorts before she can stop herself, "Oh honey, Mac's really rubbing off isn't she? You better be careful because your naive is starting to show."

Piz reappears through the automatic doors and brings an abrupt halt to their conversation. He takes the last bag out of Parker's hand and rolls his eyes at the pair, "Lets hustle schemers, I'm starving and in desperate need of some of Wallace's NBA awesomeness to rub off on me."

The couple heads for the doors with Dick following close behind mumbling, "Like I said, _suffocating_ in that closet."

* * *

><p><em>6:30 pm Monday September 3<em>

Jackie's favorite part of her house is the wraparound porch. She could sit here for hours, listening to the waves crash against the shore. She is a lucky girl. And she knows it.

An illegitimate daughter of a washed up baseball player. She'd become a single mom before she'd even become an adult. Stuck in a dead end waitressing job with a bad attitude and a rapidly fading future.

And then there was Wallace. She had no idea what she'd ever done so right to deserve him. When he'd found her in New York she'd been skeptical. But he'd kept showing up. Wearing her down seemed to be his specialty. And finally she'd smartened up and decided to stop pushing away such a great guy.

They'd gotten married almost two years ago. He'd adopted her son. Moved her mother out to Florida where she could retire. And now she has a beautiful daughter to add to her beautiful family.

Yes, she is a lucky girl.

His arms wrap around her waist and pull her close, one eye on the beach and the other on the rise and fall of her throat, "You don't have to cook."

She sighs, smiling and reaching behind her to wrap her arms around his neck, "I _like_ to cook."

Wallace sighs and kisses her lightly on her shoulder, laughing softly, "I think the liquor is going to be the biggest hit tonight no matter how amazing your pasta is baby."

"Veronica seemed good at the airport," Jackie points out, "I don't think she's going to start anything."

"It's not her I'm worried about," Wallace replies, "These days Logan starts it and Veronica tries like hell to finish it."

Jackie doesn't care. She likes Veronica and Logan's nice too. They've been idiots for each other for as long as she can remember and it's ridiculous that it still hasn't drawn into some concrete conclusion. She'd just as soon wash her hands of the entire situation. But Wallace cares. He loves Veronica like a sister. And that changes everything. Her eyebrows knit together, "I can't understand it. How, after all this time, can they still be so obsessed with each other?"

Wallace takes a second before answering, "Well, I think it's like us. Sometimes someone just gets in your system and they never get out."

Jacking scowls, "Please don't compare us to them. I don't want to be tortured Wallace. I want to be just like this. Happy, always."

He twists her in his arms so he can kiss her soundly on the mouth, "It's a promise."

A rumble of thunder breaks their spell. And she sighs, hoping the sky chooses to erupt after their group of guests have arrived. Also hoping their guests wait to erupt until after they've exited her impeccably decorated home. She looks up at her husband, "We should take the tables inside, there's a storm coming."

**More to come soon. Review please!**


	5. Nightmares

**Its been awhile! Sorry for the wait, I've had a lot on my plate these last two weeks. As penance I'll try to get another update out within the week. No promises though!**

**Chapter 5 **

Nightmares

_6:45 pm Monday September 3_

Alcohol isn't the answer. He knows that. It won't solve his problems or make them go away. He knows that too. But it will numb the pain. If only for a few fleeting moments.

It's melodramatic and extremely childish. But he's been chasing the illusive symptom for half his life. That blissful indifference, as everything but the warm, hard feeling in the pit of his stomach melts away.

He shouldn't. He has places to be and people to see. An ex who will look down on him as if nothing has changed. But fuck her. Seriously. Veronica Mars has a lot of explaining to do herself. A God complex and a bad attitude. He's done trying to pretend he's something different. They both have flaws. But he's pretty sure if he wrote them down their numbers would be pretty close to even.

It has always been such a goddamn blurry line with her. Love and hate melting together until he can't tell the difference. So confused and angry that all he wants to do is kiss and kill her in the same breath. He doesn't want to be angry tonight. Doesn't want to be anything. So he tips the bottle back and makes another grasp at oblivion.

* * *

><p><em>6:45 pm Monday September 3<em>

She gets there first on purpose. Nervous and holding a reasonably expensive bottle of wine by the neck. She knows Wallace is trying to play mediator. Her best friend giving her safe haven to work out her problems before she's once again stuck under a microscope. But life doesn't work out like that. And she has no doubt this dinner will be another disaster to add to her ever growing list.

Ethan opens the door with a smile, peaking out shyly, "Dad said I should tell everyone to leave their weapons at the door."

Veronica smiles, holding up her hands, "Unarmed, I swear."

Wallace appears behind his son, and looks at her skeptically, "Learn now kid, Veronica Mars can never _really_ be unarmed. Not with that mouth," Wallace winks before adding under his breath, "She's a lot like your mother."

Ethan grins before running back down the hallway, leaving Wallace and Veronica in the foyer. She hands him the bottle. "Cute kid," she remarks as she shrugs out of her coat. She'd dug out some of her old clothes for the occasion. Short black skirt, long sleeved red shirt, and tall black boots. Her hair is pinned up conservatively. The usual mess of dark locks wrangled into a bun at the base of her skull.

"I know," Wallace agrees, nodding with pride before closing the awkward distance between them and wrapping her into a bear hug. His house is immaculate. With high ceilings and gleaming hardwood floors. The furniture is obviously designer, but comes with a lived in feel that's inevitable with two young children.

She feels a stab of self consciousness. Despite being an invited guest and the owner's best fiend, she still feels like an intruder. A lost teenager in the home of real adults. How is it that all her friends had grown up without her? Gotten lives and jobs and families, while she was still stuck?

Wallace pulls away, but wraps a strong arm around her shoulders as he sets the bottle of wine on a table by the front door, "Come on, I think Naomi waited up for you."

They pass Jackie in the kitchen, hair pulled up as she stares down a huge pot of boiling water. She glances over her shoulder and throws out a preoccupied wave. The pair then travel up a winding staircase and she hears the little girl before she sees her. Gibberish and smacking lips she smiles toothlessly at the sight of her father and godmother.

Naomi's mobile plays softly and Wallace stands in the doorway as Veronica approaches the white crib. "Hey Naomi," she murmurs, laying a hand on the nearly sleeping infant's thick black hair. The baby coos, turning her head to the touch. And in a flash Veronica imagines a baby of similar age, with Logan's eyes and her blonde curls, beaming up at her.

She takes a few steps back. And it's humiliating, but tears creep back into her eyes again. She wishes it was some sort of mystery. This horrible loss. But unfortunately, she knows what happened. Every last detail.

"What's up Veronica," Wallace asks, concern ringing sincerely in his voice. He knows better then to approach her in this current state. She is always so skittish about vulnerability. So determined to be strong. This is a very rare occasion for the both of them.

"It's nothing," she murmurs, trying to shrug the moment off as she swipes at her tears with the back of her hands.

"Given our history I find that _extremely_ hard to believe," Wallace replies, crossing his arms over his chest determinedly.

Veronica sniffles, her eyes flicking to her best friend's, "You can't tell anyone."

Wallace sighs, rolling his eyes as he closes the door behind him, "When have your secrets ever _not_ been safe with me?"

And so, uncharacteristically and with her goddaughter sleeping right across the room, Veronica Mars starts at the beginning. And tells Wallace everything. Every last detail.

* * *

><p><em>7:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

Dick arrives home with the twin blondes in tow. Traffic was a total bitch and he doesn't have time to drop them off at their hotel before dinner. So he gets to enjoy their bickering for a few more glorious hours. He couldn't be more pleased.

He groans as he opens his car door. He can tell Mac is attempting to cook because he can hear the smoke alarm all the way across the yard. Piz shoots him a look, "Shouldn't we be a little concerned?"

Dick rolls his eyes as he starts towards the house, "Please, this is the music of my _life_. She can't make _toast_ without setting off the detector."

"Why don't you just take the batteries," Parker questions as they mount the steps to the house.

"Tried it," Dick answers quickly, "A couple weeks later she took a shower and forgot about a frozen pizza in the oven. I came home to firetrucks and a charred kitchen."

Parker snorts, "So why does she keep trying?"

"Dude," Dick shrugs, "I just live here."

Sure enough he finds Mac in the kitchen, hosing down their complicated looking oven with a fire extinguisher. Dick promptly grabs the device, regarding her solemnly, "It's over babe. The meatloaf gives up."

Mac, flustered and with a bright pink apron over her chic, black dress, shoots him a dirty look, "I was baking _brownies_."

Dick dons an oven mitt to pull the smoldering ruins of Mac's attempts at boxed brownies out of the oven, "Either way, they surrender."

Mac sighs, running a hand across her gleaming forehead, "I promised Jackie we'd bring desert."

"So we'll pick up some fancy cupcakes or something on our way over," Dick replies simply before adding, "And it's _our_ dinner party, why the hell are we responsible for food anyway?"

Mac looks at him sheepishly, "I _may_ have insisted."

Dick rolls his eyes again, pulling her towards him by the strings of her apron and kissing her long and languidly before someone in the door clears their throat. Parker, arms crossed and hip jutted, looks at them disgustedly, "You guys are just _so_ gross," she remarks before adding, "Also, we have to go like now or we're definitely going to be late."

Mac, still wrapped in Dick's arms and leaning precariously against the kitchen counter, looks at her friend skeptically before asking in a concerned voice, "Are you sure you don't want to change? Those shorts don't exactly look comfortable."

Dick grins into his fiancée's hair just as Piz lets out a validated guffaw from the living room. Parker regards her friend venomously, "_Don't_ start with me."

* * *

><p><em>7:30 pm Monday September 3<em>

By the time the majority of Jackie's guests have arrived she is done cooking. Wallace and Veronica are sitting in the screened in porch watching the lightning crackle across the ocean. She is slightly suspicious of the pair. When they emerged from her daughter's bedroom a few minutes ago Veronica's eyes were red rimmed and her smile a little too fragile. Her husband too looked drained and distracted.

But she knows better then to ask questions. With Veronica Mars not knowing is almost always better.

Dick, Parker, Mac, and Piz all arrive in one large group. Wallace gets the door with Veronica following close behind. The first few minutes are a sea of cheek kissing and hugging and 'it's been too long.'

A bottle of wine is opened and everyone goes out onto the porch. Piz talks about his radio job and his and Parker's apartment hunt. Jackie talks about the baby and Wallace about training. Dick and Mac groan over last minute wedding preparations. Veronica stays quiet, curled up in her love seat, legs hanging over the edge she offers little more then side commentary and sparse nods.

After thirty minutes and four unanswered calls to Logan, Jackie starts to serve dinner. And they're all halfway through their garlic bread and salad when the doorbell finally rings. Jackie, whose preoccupied in the kitchen again, gets to the door first. With instinct that can probably be written off by her years of experience, Veronica knows immediately by the tone of his voice as Logan greets his hostess that night is about to turn into a nightmare. Across the table Dick stiffens as well.

"It used to be a full bottle," she hears him slur from the hall, "but I got thirsty during the drive."

"Jesus Christ," Dick mumbles as he pushes back his chair. Under the table Parker grabs Mac's hand and squeezes. Wallace, whose also rising from his seat, looks about ready to explode.

Luckily Veronica is quicker then both men, and exits the dining room in the lead with only a curt, "I've got this," as a goodbye.

She barrels down the hall, giving herself only a few minutes to take in his rumpled appearance. Dark jeans and gray T shirt, his hair manically disheveled. He's trying to talk to Jackie, whose got her hands full juggling his expensive, half empty bottle of vodka and trying to keep him from falling down on the floor face first.

She passes Jackie with a determined smile, both hands flying out to push Logan's brick wall of a chest out onto the porch without a word. Normally given their size difference it would be impossible, but he's not in any shape to win a fight, even against a midget like her. She slams the door decisively behind her.

Inside the house Parker pushes out her chair and runs to the open dining room window. Piz and Mac, their mouthes falling open in horror almost in unison, hiss, "_Parker_."

The blonde rolls her eyes at the group, "Oh yeah, like the rest of you _don't_ want to know?" After glancing sheepishly at his bride to be Dick joins Parker by the window.

Outside Veronica glares at Logan disgustedly, "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Just trying to have a little fun," Logan replies, matching her glare, "I forgot the Holy Trinity was back in town. Judge, jury, and executioner right Veronica? Last time I checked I was an _invited_ guest."

He tries to sidestep her but she matches his movement, "Logan if you try to come back inside Wallace will _kill_ you."

"What? Is this a dry house suddenly?" He sneers down at her.

"His kids are upstairs sleeping," she hisses, crossing her arms over her chest, "You can barely _stand_."

"I'm fine," he insists, once again trying to get past her.

"Logan," she repeats, giving him another shove towards the porch steps, "going back inside _isn't_ an option. Figure out something else to do with your night."

He sighs, taking a step back with his hand held up in surrender. She knows it's too good to be true. "Fine," he smirks as he turns on his heel, "Home it is." He pulls his car keys out of his pocket and starts down the steps.

She blinks, actually has to take a moment to contemplate his stupidity. "You _drove_ here?" She practically screeches as she launches herself off the porch and follows him out onto the lawn. "Are you trying to kill yourself? Or just a wholesome family of four?"

"Relax mom, I pre partied in the driveway," Logan explains with out turning around. "Mostly," he adds under his breath as he saunters towards his Porsche.

"What is this, junior year?" She spits venomously, even though she's the one that's chasing after a grown man in the dark. She takes a deep breath, tries to get control of herself as she pleads, "You _can't_ be this stupid anymore. Give me your keys."

Suddenly he whirls. Catching her by the shoulders as she walks right into him. They are only inches apart as he stares down at her with hard eyes. "Make me," he challenges.

She hesitates for a split second, but her voice is cold when she replies, "Take another step towards the car and I'll scream. Then half the wedding party's going to be out here stopping you." She sees guilt begin to stir in his eyes, but it's too much of a risk so she juts her chin and adds defiantly, "Or better yet, go ahead. Drive home. I've always wanted to see a montage of your and Aaron's various mugshots plastered on a magazine cover. I bet the headline reads 'Like Father Like Son'."

He lets go of her as if he's been burned, staggering back a few steps and glaring at her like a petulant child, "You're a real bitch you know that?" He throws the keys up in the air and turns towards the car once again.

She catches them. "For years," she replies in a whisper before following him into the dark. She feels the first moist droplets seep through the thin material of her shirt. Only a few and their descent increases rapidly. Both she and Logan pick up their pace towards the car.

Rain has come with a vengeance.

**Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for all your feedback, please review because I LOVE it.**


	6. Coming Around

**Okay, it wasn't a week. I'm a liar but forgive me anyway.**

**Chapter 6**

Coming Around

_7:45 pm Monday September 3_

She knows she probably deserves it. This mess of karma that's currently punching her in the face. She's hurt this man more then he deserves. In more ways then he even knows. So she should take this penance with silent dignity and grace.

She_ should_. But who would she be fooling? Certainly not Logan.

He fiddles with the windows as she navigates traffic frustratedly. The rain is coming down in sheets and it's more like bumper cars at this point. Her fingers tense on the wheel as he presses the control button up and down over and over. Rain is getting in his face and wetting his clothes, he's being a child. She sighs and glances over, "Why are you doing this?"

Logan glares at her, knowing this has nothing to do with her annoyance over a little precipitation in the car, "If it's the same to you I'll pass on the obligatory pep talk. You don't mean it and I don't believe it."

"It's not a pep talk you jackass," she hisses, turning as she decides to take a less populated street to get him home. She forgets that less populated also means less street lights. Her speed slows to a crawl, "I thought you'd recognize it as the 'what are you doing with your life you idiot' speech. God knows we've been through it enough."

"All the more reason to skip it," Logan shrugs and with this cynical little half smile that has always made her want to strangle him he adds, "Besides when comparing lives, I think we can definitely classify me as winning."

"Yeah," Veronica shoots back quickly, finally finding her own reason to smirk, "getting drunk before nine on a weekday really shows how content you are." The truth is she can count on her right hand how many times she had seen Logan this drunk when she was in college. She wouldn't even need to use all her fingers. He had stopped being the guy that would embarrass her right around the time she started worrying about being the girl who would do so to him. He had flourished unexpectedly under the scrutiny of fans that legitimately adored him and in equal measure she had begun to fade away.

"Girls and gold baby," Logan shrugs, eyes blank, "I've got both in spades."

"You know," she remarks disgustedly, "I never thought I'd see the day when _Dick_ was more mature then you." He could be so much better then this. He _is_ so much better then this. But neither of them is really living up to their full potential at the moment. She doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to maturity and growth. All her flaws and scars still bubble just beneath the surface. She's even added a few new ones to admire.

Logan sighs, leaning his head against window. His voice isn't spiteful, but pained, "He picked the right girl. Mac's loyal."

She tries not to wince at the dig, countering, "He waited. He didn't try to push her-"

"You said _yes_," Logan bellows. Hands flailing. He doesn't know how long he can keep dancing in this stupid circle. She can't possibly be trying to pin this on him again.

"What was I _supposed_ to say?" She questions, head whipping to face him before she turns back to the road. It's still pouring, and she's already distracted enough, "You wouldn't have gotten over a no. We would have broken up and I didn't _want_ it to be over."

"But you didn't want to marry me either," Logan finishes, voice still raised and arms coming up to cross over his chest.

"At the time-" she starts, wincing at how lame it sounds. At how very drained her voice is. She's almost relieved when he immediately interrupts her.

"Do you _hear_ yourself?" Logan asks, his voice low, "Just stop Veronica. I know what happened, I was _there_. Don't pretend I forced you into something. You said yes because you wanted to. The problem is that you'll sacrifice any relationship to further your own fucking self righteous ambition."

"Oh, great," Veronica hisses, throwing her hands up in the air, "Do you charge by the hour doc? 'Cause I don't think I can afford to get another evaluation right now."

"No, seriously let's review. Me, Wallace, Mac, Duncan, your dad," he lists, counting the names off with his fingers, "You'll lie, sweet talk, manipulate _any_ of us to get your way. But the moment, the fucking split second, anyone does something similar to you it's an international incident. You demand total honesty and give the exact opposite in return. I wanted a life with you, a future with you, and even though _you_ left _me_ after accepting my proposal and planning half a wedding _I'm_ the one that's supposed to feel bad? Fuck. That."

"I'm not saying you should feel bad-" Veronica interjects softly. But she's forgotten what her point was to begin with. How she was going to paint this to alter villan and victim.

"No," Logan relents, the volume of his voice lowering as he grumbles, "you're just saying you shouldn't have to either." And maybe that _was_ it. Maybe she underestimates how well he really does know her. How skilled he has become at uncovering her bullshit and leaving her woefully transparent.

"Oh I feel guilty Logan," Veronica acquiesces finally, "Of course I do. But it's six years later, how much longer do you intend to make me pay?"

Logan rolls his eyes, he really hasn't even started, "This is the first conversation we've had since you moved your shit out of the apartment. I think I deserve a little more closure then that."

He does. And so does she. One night altered and they would be fighting about completely different subjects. Figuring out their future instead of painstakingly dissecting their past. But she made her choice. Both six years and three weeks ago. And now her only option is to attempt damage control, "And you're choosing to take your vengeance a week before your best friend's wedding?"

"It's not like I'm going to get another opportunity," he answers, his smirk turning dubious at the edges, "I have no doubt you'll be back in New York before they can throw the rice on the happy couple."

Her fingers tense on the wheel, and she has the deep urge to lie through her teeth. To accept the false statement or distract him by calling him out for being selfish. But she's sick of constantly proving his accusations correct, "If times your only issue give it a rest. I'm moving back at the end of the week."

He blinks and then turns completely in his seat, facing her with skeptical eyes, "Moving back _where_?"

She winces, "Jesus you really are drunk. I'm. Moving. Back. To. Neptune."

There is a moment of hesitation as he thinks about the announcement. The changes she makes to her life that really don't effect him, but on the other hand really really do. He knows it's irrational to think she would tell him. To think he should have a say. She'd denied him that right when she had denied him everything else.

_"What?"_

She's about to explain. At least some of it. But the words die in her throat as a flash of headlights and the blaring of a horn overwhelm her senses. She swerves and manages to avoid the car driving in the wrong lane. But the Porsche tips into the wet grass and she loses traction completely. The vehicle careens over the divider and into the woods, the hood wrapping around a thick redwood.

She remembers Logan shouting and throwing an arm across her chest. The airbags inflate on impact and her skull smacks the headrest behind her. She sees spots and she remember the doctor's warning three weeks ago about head trauma and concussions and things she should avoid. Then everything fades to black.

* * *

><p>8:00 pm Monday September 3<p>

_She falls on top of him, already half asleep as the morning sun falls through the curtains of the Neptune Grand. She loves Thursdays, can think of nothing better to do with her three hours between classes then spend them in bed with Logan. She wants to nap, but knows already he has other things on his mind. His hands fiddle with her hair as he sucks in a breath and questions, "So, what do you think?"_

_She bites her lip, eyes knitting together in concentration. He wants to discuss the apartment. The monstrosity with views worth killing for. But she doesn't have the same urge, knows that an awkward conversation will follow. He is filled with questions she doesn't want to answer. So instead she lifts her head from his sticky chest and replies, "Solid effort," adding then with a cheeky grin, "Why, do you want a high five?"_

_"I only accept positive reinforcement for mind blowing actually," he deadpans, earning him a smile from his blonde counterpart. His hands are still running across the blunt edges of her currently cropped locks when his voice softens and becomes the one she is used to hearing in bed, "And you know I was talking about the apartment smart ass."_

_"Are you sure you need all that space?" she questions, rolling off slightly onto the mattress, one of her legs still tangled between to both of his. She sits up on her elbow to get a better view of him when she elaborates, "I know you're all up and coming and everything, but it's a lot of room for one person."_

_His eyes gleam and it takes her a split second of horror to realize she's walked right into the question. The inevitable evolution of their sometimes relationship into something decidedly more committed. His eyes glance down and she wants to scream, half of her in excitement and the other in fear. When it comes to Logan she's never sure at any given moment which emotion will persevere. He looks up again and smiles hopefully, still so young, bound and determined to break her heart, "Which is why I was thinking the two of us could live there." _

_She goes with the first fear that comes to mind, "Logan I can't afford that place. I don't think I could afford to use their bathrooms."_

_He rolls his eyes, all hopes for a simple, peaceful moment gone. He should know better by now. That's not even close to the relationship he'd signed up for. And most of the time that was alright, it was just at these moments when he wished she was a little less of a pain in the ass, "I'm not asking you to pay rent Veronica. I'm asking you to live with me."_

_"As your kept woman?" she mumbles into the side of his body snarkily. Because that's what everyone will say. What everyone always says. A nobody who'd managed to snag the two most eligible and richest bachelors in her town. He was her golden ticket, and she would ride his coattails to fame and fortune. _

_He sighs, she doesn't exactly make it easy for him. But he isn't asking for any favors. Winning Veronica over too easily would make him nervous anyway. His life is a battle and she is no exception. He decides to go for it, hand reaching out to brush the bangs out of her eyes, "I was thinking as my fiancé."_

_Veronica snorts and kisses his shoulder, muttering a sarcastic, "Haha."_

_Without pulling away he reaches to the side and grabs the box that's been hidden behind a generic picture frame for a month. He studies it for a moment before flipping it open and laying it in the space between them, "Not a joke."_

_She glances rapid fire from the ring to his face. Vulnerable and raw, so different from the witty and guarded man she spends most of her time with. She doesn't move, can't even form a coherent thought. Too young. Too volatile. She can't say yes, but she can't say no either. "Jesus, Logan," she manages to choke out._

_"Veronica-" he begins. And she's sure he's about to make her an offer she can't refuse. About to wash away all her fears and doubts with beautiful words that will leave her in tears. And she's desperate to retain her sensibility, the rationality he always seems to steal from her._

_The absurdity of their situation dawns on her and she clutches the thin sheet covering her, "You _can't_ propose to me while I'm _naked_. While _you're_ naked."_

_"Veronica-" he starts again, ignoring her._

_"Logan-" she repeats._

"VERONICA," it's not Logan's voice in her ear anymore but her Dad's. Keith Mar's in full uniform. She's remembers it all at once. Why she's currently horizontal in a moving ambulance with her father leaning over her and Logan clutching his bleeding in the seat next to him. His jaw is clenched tight, the muscles in his throat jumping frantically. She wonders what he had to do to get her father to let them ride in the same ambulance.

"Sorry about the car," she murmurs as she tries to sit up. Both Keith and the EMT trying to examine her head push her back down onto the stretcher.

Logan grimaces, looking at her like she's crazy, "Fuck the car Veronica. Are you okay?"

"Have you suffered any other head injuries in the past six months ma'am?" the EMT asks, and she knows that he has found the stitches above her right ear, right across her hairline. She has suffered a recent trauma, but she'd rather bleed out on the stretcher then admit it in front of Logan and her dad.

Her father notices the old wound too, and pushes the professional's hand away. "Veronica," his voice is soft. There is no attempt at professionalism. He is her father and she is his daughter and things have gone horribly wrong, "what happened?"

"Professional hazard," she sighs, swatting his hand away, grasping at the shards of strength in her voice. She reads the blind rage in Logan's gaze, his eyes still locked on the long line of neat black stitches. She wonders when she became so terrible at guarding her own secrets.

She decides to defer, focus on things she can actually anticipate and change. She glances at her Dad, whose still looking at her in a daze. What did he _think_ she did for a job anyway? What did they both think? She'd been fast tracked and put in the field. Being an FBI agent wasn't exactly low risk.

"The hospital's going to be a circus," she mutters as the EMT shines a bright light in her eyes. She doesn't like that. It gives her flashbacks to a similar ambulance when she was covered in blood from head to toe. Her's and her baby's. Her hands clench into fists and she hopes irrationally that Logan doesn't notice.

"I'll take care of it," Keith and Logan mutter at almost the same time. Keith glances to Logan frustratedly, he wonders if her should scream at the kid for putting his daughter in another precarious position. For giving her cause to be out driving in this mess. But Veronica's a big girl now, and he can't delude himself into thinking she would allow herself to be taken advantage of. She puts herself between Logan and disaster because that's where she wants to be. But the fact that she shrugs off bumps and bruises as acceptable collateral damage in both her personal and professional life leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Logan doesn't meet his eyes. His knuckles are white as he grips the edge of his seat, his eyes on fire as he stares straight ahead. And Keith understand that he doesn't need to lay blame on Logan, the boy has already accepted it.

"Ma'am I'm gonna need you to put on this neck brace," the EMT commands, "it's standard procedure until we can get your head checked out at the hospital."

Veronica looks at him, pretty face screwing up in stubborn disbelief, "That's not necessary. I'm fine, really."

Beside him Keith feels Logan's entire body go rigid. And he remembers how he found them at the scene. Car alarm blaring and rain flying, Logan had been standing in the middle of the street holding his daughter's dazed body. He knows, had been informed a minute before he boarded the ambulance, that the driver's side door had jammed. That Logan had used a rock and his hands to pull Veronica out of her seat and through the busted window. Keith realizes that if Veronica doesn't start complying, they're going to be cleaning up pieces of Echolls from inside the ambulance.

"Ma'am you lost consciousness at the scene," the EMT argues clinically, "You _must_ seek treatment."

Veronica looks at him sharply, "I don't _have_ to do any-"

Logan opens his mouth, but Keith finds the words first, "Veronica," he snaps, his tone leaving no room for discussion, "put on the neck brace, _now_."

She glances at her father, looks like she's about to speak, but decided better of it and closes her eyes. "Okay," she caves, "okay." Keith feels Logan's body relax ever so slightly next to him.

Stuck between the two of them. Stuck with all the questions he seems to always have for his only daughter. Keith sits in the ambulance, waiting and willing them to arrive at the hospital.

It is the longest five minutes of his life.

**Thanks to all my reviewers, especially _epic how_ because I love your lists intensely. **


	7. Battle Wounds

**Chapter 7**

Battle Wounds

_9:30 pm Monday September 3_

One thing Logan and Veronica have in common is their mutual loathing of hospitals. Logan's seen one to many doctor for his childhood "accidents." And Veronica's become more then bored with her experiences in exam rooms, whether they be job required checkups or emergency situations. Her last CT scan was recently and she admits as much when the ER doctor asks. It had been extensive blunt trauma and she'd received a concussion. The man looks at her chart and purses his lips. They're getting her medical records from New York. Her scan looks clean but they need to keep her overnight for observation.

She would say no. Plead to be released since she earned a good scan. But her father's in the room, gaping at her like he's seeing her for the very first time. She wants to tell him she's all right. Or that she will be soon. She wants to tell him the truth, but if he doesn't recognize her after this minor detail how much can she reveal until the betrayal starts to seep into his eyes? Until he starts to doubt her and, even worse, himself. She loves him. Would die and kill and do anything for him. But some things are just better left unsaid.

She's relieved that Logan is in a different examination room. That they're stitching him up and assessing the damage to his hands. She could kill that dumb ass. What was he thinking? She didn't need him to bash out her window when he'd already called for an ambulance. To pull her out of a car and carry her into the street when the police were on their way. It was impulsive and reckless and just so fucking Logan. Act now and think later. Now he would suffer the consequences. She's already contemplating headlines. Imaginary fights or acts of aggression. Drunk driving accusations. Or maybe the actual story. That despite all the fights and eventual radio silence, despite their broken engagement and her costal migration, he is still willing to sacrifice pieces of himself for her benefit. Waiting at a moment's notice to be the hero she never expected or asked for. And that she is ungrateful and bitchy as ever.

The doctor leaves, a nurse will be back to check on her soon. She and Keith are alone. The air turns awkward as the silence drags. Veronica feels the tension like a weight on her shoulders. He's just looking at her, eyes concentrating like he's trying to see beneath her skin. Map out the lies and the bruises so he can finally figure her out, predict the surprises that make him ache in the pit of his stomach. She is not a good daughter. Maybe he's not thinking it but she is.

He sits back in the chair, resting his chin in his palm. His face is passive, a swirling mix of pain and regret. "What happened in New York, Veronica," the question isn't angry or judgmental, it is simple and leaves no room for deflection.

A lie is on the tip of her tongue. But she doesn't need to hide this part. It'll just be another mistruth to keep track of, and she has too many of them already. Lies. Lies. Lies. She is so many different people, living in different stages of chaos with each identity. Her voice is low and she can't manage to keep eye contact for more then a millisecond, "You know what happened in New York Dad. It was in all the papers for weeks."

He thinks for a minute before his eyes before his eyes widen and he sits up, "Alex Corso? That was you?"

She swallows, and it's horrible but her face is hard when she draws her line, "I can't talk about it Dad."

He doesn't want to know. He really doesn't. Maybe that's the problem. Its always been so much easier to see her as this little girl, with pigtails and eyes that are innocent of secrecy. He's had several rude awakenings. She is nothing like that little girl anymore. But she is still his daughter, no matter what, and so he _has_ to know, "He hurt you?"

She looks up at the ceiling, the muscles in her jaw locking into place one by one. "Yes," her voice is calm, the answer vague. Which is how he knows it's so much more complicated.

"How bad," his voice is tight, he can't look at her either. He taught her to ride a bike. Spent countless nights working her through math homework. Hid tears when she'd walked across the stage at college graduation. One night was all it would have taken to erase every moment.

She looks away and it tells him everything. He feels a lump grow in his throat at the thought of her all alone in a hospital room. His baby no matter what age, battered and too stubborn to call, "Why didn't you-"

"I wasn't going to die Dad. I didn't want to worry you. You have work and Alicia and-"

His hand slams down on the armrest of the chair, and in the quiet room the sound is deafening. She can feel the tears jump to her eyes immediately. He so rarely gets angry with her, almost never raises his voice. "Dad-" she tries, voice small.

But he is already rising from the chair, heading for the door, "I just, I need a minute Veronica. I'll see you soon."

* * *

><p><em>9:34 pm Monday September 3<em>

Keith steps out of the door and a moment later Leo D'Amato steps in. He looks just as handsome as ever. Curly black hair and bashful smile. She feels a pang. But Leo's been married for years. Two kids with his dark eyes and olive skin. The perfect family she assumes would make her skin crawl. Veronica smiles at him glumly, "Hey Deputy."

"Veronica," he nods, pulling out a chair from the wall and taking a seat, "always good to see you."

"How's Gabby?" She asks, referring to Leo's beautiful wife. A woman so nice it should probably be illegal.

"She's great, just went back to work," Leo rubs the back of his head, with this quiet little smile proud father's sometimes get. Another pang. But it has nothing to do with Leo. Her thoughts momentarily flit to Logan's knuckles, there will be no stitches, the wounds will be wrapped and left raw.

Luckily her question was long planned, and falls out of her mouth even though her mind is miles away, "Still teaching fourth grade?" Gabby D'Amato loves little children. Loves them.

"Yep," he nods, and then both of them hesitate as Leo looks down at the pad of paper in his hand apprehensively.

She decides to make it easier on him, crosses her arms over her chest and smiles slyly, "Do you wanna ask me some questions Leo?"

He winces but clicks his pen and does his best to regard her stoically when he blurts, "Was Echolls' driving?"

Veronica's heart flatlines for a split second. And then her brain surges as she tries to figure out if Logan is playing an angle. If he thinks somehow he's protecting her. She catches her breath and slits her eyes, "Did he tell you he was?"

Leo looks at her hard for a beat and then relents, "I wanted to talk to you first."

Veronica looks at him straight in the eyes, voice firm, "I was driving Leo. Logan's drunk, I was giving him a ride home."

One of Leo's dark eyebrows rises, "In _his_ car?"

She pauses at the implication. Until this very moment she hadn't even thought about what she would do when she dropped Logan off. Hadn't crossed her mind. She knows he wouldn't have been cruel enough to order her out into the rain. She shrugs and answers, "I wasn't thinking about myself at the time. I needed to take him out of the situation, I chose the easiest way. I guess I would have taken a cab back to Wallace's."

Leo pauses for a long beat then leans backwards in his chair, regarding her like a new discovery, "You know Veronica, I never understood how the two of you worked. How it lasted as long as it did. But now it's starting to make more sense."

She mimics his gestures, and juts her chin defiantly, "Care to elaborate?"

He laughs, more of a snort, and then gives into her request, "You'll take a one way ride in the middle of a monsoon to keep him from driving drunk. He'll punch a window in bare fisted to get you out of a smoking car. You can't live with each other, but you seem hellbent on not living without each other either."

Veronica runs a hand through her hair, her glum expression returning, "You make it sound tragic."

"It has to be," he replies, eyes studying her sad face, "otherwise it would sound like love."

* * *

><p><em>9:35 pm Monday September 3<em>

Keith Mars barrels into his hospital room gracelessly, face red as he asks immediately, "What do you know?"

Logan wonders fleetingly how he'd started off getting drunk to forget Veronica and ended up thinking about nothing but her. She'll have a scar. Another one to add to the already too many. He wonders how it looked before they stitched it up. And if there were other wounds she would never admit to. He tries to remember she's an officer. That sometimes it's a side effect of the job. But that means nothing to him. Just like nothing had mattered when he'd awoken to her limp body and head resting against the wheel. His mouth is a hard line when he answers Keith in a detached tone, "Well Sheriff, it looks like someone tried to bash her head in."

It's a mistake. And the boy regrets the words as soon as they have left his mouth. The man's fist clench and Logan knows he would deserve the blow. But instead Keith grits out threateningly, "Logan, I've put up with a lot from you over the years. But so help me God-"

Logan sits up from the wall he's been leaning against anxiously, Keith identifies the emotion brimming in his eyes as that of despair, "In case you didn't noticed your daughter kind of ran me over on her way out of town. We're not really in a sharing place right now." The boy's fingers drum against his leg, a nervous tick Veronica used to soothe by lacing their finger together.

Keith tries to remember exactly where it was on her skull that Lilly had taken the ashtray. When Logan's father had "bashed the head in" of his treacherous first love. He's looked at the crime scene photos a million times, fixated every detailed, but even he couldn't bare to look at the picture of the girl's open head and vacant eyes. He'd known her since she was a baby for Christ's sake. For all he knows the blow could have been directly over her pretty right ear. He knows its crossed Logan's mind at least once.

"Look," Logan adds dejectedly after a deep breath, "she's not gonna tell you anything. Especially if you freak out on her. And if you guilt her she'll just lie."

Keith sags into a nearby chair, head in his hand as his mind races, "I feel like I just got sucker punched."

Across from him Logan grins bitterly and relaxes back into the wall, "Welcome to my world." There is a drawn silence between the two men and then without warning Logan lunges across the room, emptying the contents of his stomach miserably into a trash can.

* * *

><p><em>10:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

"Five seconds," Wallace exclaims as he and Mac fly down the highway, "She's literally been home for five seconds. How can I already be visiting her in the hospital?"

Mac slumps down in the passenger seat, high heels resting on the dash as she scarfs down one of the cupcakes they made Piz run in and buy at Whole Foods before this whole fiasco. "Dick calls her hurricane Veronica," she admits with a mouth full of crumbs.

"She was doing him a favor," Wallace replies quickly. He never should have let her leave. He should have handled Logan himself. It was his house. A good friend would have made them both stay, "She was _always_ doing him favors."

Mac sighs, leaning her head against the window of Wallace's Escalade. The rain has slowed to a drizzle. She runs her finger across the stitching of her leather seat, "I'm worried about her. She seems sad."

Wallace flashes back to his previous conversation with Veronica. Barely a couple of hours ago. His knuckles turn white around the wheel,"She's got a lot on her mind right now."

* * *

><p><em>10:00 pm Monday September 3<em>

"Whose side of the car looked more fucked up?" Dick questions conspiringly from inside Wallace's downstairs bathroom. "Hers or yours?"

Logan is signing papers, desperate to get the hell out of dodge before all hell breaks loose. The fact that this brings him closer to her hospital room has absolutely nothing to do with it, "Dick it was accident. She wasn't _trying_ to_ kill_ me."

"I'm just saying," Dick continues obliviously, "pissed off ex and all, a car crash is pretty convenient. She's government man, I bet she totally knows how to make it look like an accident."

"If Veronica was trying to kill me I would be dead," Logan sighs, high school coming back in a dismal wave. He adds for good measure, "Like a really long time ago."

"Okay," Dick grimaces, "that's enough of the tone."

"What _tone_?" Logan questions incredulously.

"Your wistful, I bet we could have made it work tone," Dick explains pithily, "It's patented and it makes me want to hurl."

"Goodbye Dick," Logan sighs, moving to disconnect the call.

"No dude," the blonde exclaims, "Mac and Wallace just left. I'm coming too."

Logan rolls his eyes. He'd rather rub his fists in salt at this point then deal with a crowd of friends _and_ a crowd of paparazzi, "Dick, I'm drunk and my hand fucking hurts. The last thing I need are your lame attempts at _mothering_ me."

"Don't make it weird man," Dick pleads, before adding with a smirk, "you know I just want to make sure you're still acceptable for the wedding photos."

"My bloody knuckles are sure to add a touch of class," Logan deadpans.

"As always," his friend agrees, "Listen, I'm coming. You're drunk, your hand hurts, and you need someone to drive you home."

"I'll call a car-" Logan tries again valiantly

"Logan, man, I'm walking out of the house. Just shut the fuck up," Dick finally snaps, before elaborating, "I'm in charge of making sure this wedding doesn't crash and burn and I need to be reassured that the maid of honor didn't just try to assassinate the best man."

Dick hangs up with a click and then begins to contemplate his escape plan. He'd rather light himself on fire then be stuck with his pair of backseat driver's for the rest of the night. But somehow he doesn't think Jackie is going to be down for twin blonde babysitting duties.

He contemplates taking his chances and going out the window, but the suit is expensive and imported and Parker and Piz are nothing compared to a pissed off Mac. He goes the asshole route instead and tries to sneak past the trio who are making small talk in the kitchen.

But Jackie has the eagle eyes of a mother of two and he doesn't get to far. "Richard," she questions sweetly, stopping him dead in his tracks, "Aren't you forgetting your leftovers?"

He winces and turns, pissed as all hell when he orders, "Lee, Piznarski it's time to roll the hell out. Thanks for the hospitality as always Jacks."

"No problem," she returns, her voice sarcastic as she rolls her eyes at him. He winks in return and heads for the door.

* * *

><p><em>10:35 pm Monday September 3<em>

Leo leaves eventually. It becomes painfully obvious to both of them that she is unwilling to implicate Logan in any wrong doing, probably wouldn't even if he was genuinely to blame. Keith doesn't return as quickly as he promised, which Veronica guiltily admits to herself is a relief. Like every man in her life he wants answers she hasn't come up with yet.

She is channel surfing when he shrugs into the room, his face still drawn and flushed from alcohol. He doesn't approach the bed or even try to speak, he glowers at her. His jaw is clenched and his eyes hold a look of manic intensity that she recognizes immediately. He's teetering even closer to the edge then she is.

She turns the TV and relaxes into the bed, the left side of her head falling against the pillow in order to hold his gaze. He's not gonna talk so she might as well. "How are your hands?" she asks softly. She's too tired to yell.

"They'll heal," he shrugs. He knocks the back of his head against the wall with a thump, holding it there when he questions similarly, "How's your head?"

She's not gonna die, at least hopefully, and no matter how much her head hurts she knows Logan hurts just as bad. Doesn't know when she started caring but she finds that she does. At least right now. "I'll be fine," she replies calmly.

He pushes his head off the wall and looks at her again, she finds herself relieved, "Veronica," he starts, voice already cracking around the edges, "I-"

"Logan I know," she interrupts before he can make them both cry, "Just…come sit down."

He sighs, closing the small distance in a few strides. He falls into the chair next to her bed. All anger has dissolved for the moment. They are survivors of a trauma and lucky to both come out nearly unscathed. "Your Dad's worried," he confides leaning his elbows on his knees, so that when he starts to tap his feet it looks like his whole body is vibrating.

"I know," she winces. She feels the urge to touch him, feels like if she doesn't soon they will both explode. It's a study in will power but somehow she manages to keep her hands at her sides.

He looks up at her, eyes incredulous, "Are you gonna tell him what happened?"

She sighs, bites her lip, and eventually admits calmly, "Probably not."

He pauses, it's what he expected. Veronica's relationship with her father is based largely on his ignorance of some of the more tragic aspects of her life. At some point during her sophomore she had decided it was her job to protect him, and she hadn't stopped trying since. He breaks the unspoken rule, reaches out and finds the line of stitches under all of her dark hair. His fingers are warm and tickle the shell of her ear unintentionally. His voice is soft but dubious, "I'm assuming that means I'll never find out either."

She lets out all her breath in a whoosh, has no idea why a lump is once again taking residence in the back of her throat. She can't believe she's starting to fall to pieces after only a day, "I don't want to talk about it tonight."

But he doesn't let up, hand still tracing the contours of her profile absentmindedly as he presses, "Why are you moving home Veronica?"

She needs to distract him, so she encircles his wrist and brings his eyes back to her own, then asks pointedly, "Why are _you_ working with Weevil, Logan?"

A stalemate. And they stare with guarded faces daring the other to crack first. Back to the same game already. The moment ignites like a live wire, and it doesn't help that she is a twist of a wrist away from holding his hand.

The spell is broken by an opening door and Veronica releases Logan's wrist at the same moment he tries to tug it away. The dinner party minus Jackie is being led into Veronica's room by her father. Keith is trying to explain visiting hours are over but can't seem to get a word in edgewise amongst the fray.

There are varying degrees of shock and resignation from all friends as they take in the scene. Dick is the first to comment as usual, groaning as he flops onto the couch by the door, "You guys should really seek counseling. Violence is _not_ supposed to be foreplay."

**Hope you enjoyed this little installment. More to come soon. Review please.**


	8. Separate Ways

**This is an epic of a chapter. Hopefully it makes up for our time apart.**

**Chapter 8**

Separate Ways

_11:00 pm Monday September 3_

At the persistence of Keith and Veronica the wedding party disperses quickly. She needs rest and, though Dick provides welcome comic relief, everyone is made more then a little uncomfortable by the visual daggers Logan and Veronica keep throwing at each other. No one wants to talk about the accident. Especially since Logan's face takes on a look of physical pain every time someone mentions it. Veronica doesn't react much better, and in a weird sort of deference steers the topic away from a rehash.

Once Mac is reassured that Veronica will survive the night and Dick is reassured that she didn't blatantly attempt to murder Logan, the couple is easily persuaded to leave. They disperse with Piz and Parker in tow, and after a little haranguing on Mac's part Logan agrees to join too. There is a awkward moment of eye contact between the previously engaged couple, but in the end Logan slumps out the same way he slumped in. Pissed off and clueless.

His phone rings as the exhausted crew is heading to the car and he groans, expecting Nadine. But his caller ID reads Biker Bitch. At least one thing is his life is going according to plan. He waves the group off, mutters something about meeting them at the car. He's looking for good news when he flips open the phone, "Is it done?"

Weevil's voice is smug, "Yes and no."

He immediately slips into dramatics, letting out a large groan as he paces around a cement pillar in the basement parking garage, "How could you possibly have screwed this up?"

Weevil decides to let it slip because of his good mood, continuing as if Logan's response had been enthusiastic, "Finally managed to dig up a little dirt on Danny Jameson, apparently our guy-"

Logan doesn't want to hear it. Couldn't care less. The scraps of information he'd just days ago been counting on are now irrelevant. "I don't care," he interrupts, coming to halt for a brief second as he speaks.

Weevil pauses for a beat, but then returns with a vengeance, annoyance clear, "You know, I'm pretty sure I was speaking pretty boy American, but I guess I'll break it down a bit more, I'm saying I _broke the case_."

Logan smirks, revealing a pretty boy as sharp as a razor's edge, "I understood the words, despite your ghetto affectations. I'm saying it doesn't matter," he reiterates, drawing out the syllables condescendingly and then with a wave of his hand, "Make him go away."

In his home office Weevil's eyes narrow, and his question comes out snider then he intends, "This doesn't have anything to do with you and my favorite teen detective's recent trip to the ER does it?"

Logan stops short, taking in a deep breath to avoid cussing out his volatile employee. He has yet to master self control though, so one expletive slips past the hard line of his mouth, "Don't take this the wrong way Weev: but fuck off."

Weevil knows he deserves that one. Knows that if he had been standing near Logan he might have even taken a fist to the face. He's only recently realized how very deep Logan's sensitivity towards a certain former blonde really runs. And so he doesn't take it personally, never really has with 09er rich boys, instead he asks seriously, "How's Veronica?"

"She's _fine_," Logan exhales, leaning his hot forehead against the cool pillar he had just been circling. His skull is throbbing. And he is flashing back to those fleeting moments in the car. He had _screamed_ her name as the rain poured through his shattered window. Kept screaming as he crawled out and then came back for her. She hadn't answered once. And even after, when he had felt the beat of her pulse under his fingers, he had been convinced she was mere moments from slipping away. "And she'll stay that way if you just do your job," he finishes resolutely.

It's back to business. Even though it's clear this job has always been personal. For both men. Weevil takes the chance to highlight his success once again, "I'm trying to save you ten million dollars, isn't that what you hired me for?"

"And now I'm saying I want you to give this guy whatever the hell he wants," once again Logan draws out the syllables, concluding with an eye roll, "_Keep up_."

Weevil's jaw clenches, on the verge of being pushed too far. He can feel sympathetic towards the poor bastard but blatant disrespect is unacceptable no matter the circumstances, "You know what Echolls-"

Logan cuts him short, smirk returning, although with an added touch of weariness, "Any progress on Leanne?"

There is scornful silence on the other line. A no if there ever was one.

"Okay then," Logan's done with the conversation and begins to head towards the car, "thanks for this pointless phone call. Its been such a pleasure to once again realize your glaring incompetence."

He hangs up before Weevil can begin the string of familiar obscenities.

* * *

><p><em>8:00 am Tuesday September 4<em>

She wakes up in a rush. Hands flying to her skull and stomach, her mind filled with phantom memories. It takes too long for her heart to settle down, and it beats wildly against her ribcage in great pounding spurts.

The room is dark, the curtains drawn. But she can make out two sleeping forms, one stretched out on the bed next to hers, the other crashing on the couch. Wallace and Keith. Both men had insisted on staying, and after her mostly unspoken war with Logan she had been too tired to fight with any more men who love her too much.

She catches her breath. And as she lays there in the light of the morning sun she becomes horribly claustrophobic. She'd been in the same position much too recently. And it all feels like some horrible case of deja vu. For a memory she has no desire to relive.

The restlessness drives her out of her bed, and thankfully she's in her own sweats and T shirt and not some ridiculous paper gown. Because she's hell bent on dragging her ass to the head of the hospital if it means getting out of this horrible, oppressive room. Her body screams when she stands, and she feels like, well she feels like she's been in a car accident.

She's as quiet as possible, and she almost makes it to the door. But he grabs her wrist when she passes by, and she's so jumpy she nearly screams. Wallace's face is smashed into the couch cushion comically and he regards her with a single, disdainful, open eye. "Lay back down," he commands.

She smiles, sugar sweet even though her body and mind are begging to lash out, "You know that's not going to happen."

"They'll discharge you when they have time," Wallace grumbles, but his grip is loosening. Aware he'd lost before even starting.

She sighs, reaching down to squeeze his arm as consolation. "We'd spend the whole afternoon here," she explains in a whisper, adding with a smirk, "I'd much rather let you take me out to breakfast."

She slips out of his grasp and heads for the door. And Wallace sighs, presses his face back into the pillow, and lets her.

* * *

><p><em>12:00 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

"So what's the problem?" Dick wonders. He's spread eagle on a tricked out raft in the middle of Logan's humungous pool. Clad in loose board shorts and nothing else. His shaggy blonde hair is wet and falls curly around his face, making him look slightly cherubic. He's got a beer in one hand and half of a slightly soggy sandwich in the other.

Logan, fully clothed plus sunglasses, lays gingerly on a cushioned chaise. His hands are a fucking mess, he's bruised from the elbow down on his left arm, and the rest of him just generally feels like shit. Thank God, or his hot doctor really, for pain pills. He studies Dick from over the top of his shades, concluding with surly flair, "As usual, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dick takes a swig of his beer and explains, "I've been trying to figure out how to minimize the damage of this rapidly sinking ship, and I've decided the best way is for you and Veronica to get back together."

Logan snorts, eyes narrowing for only a split second when he observes, "You hate Veronica."

Dick looks appalled, "I don't _hate_ her," he denies in too vehement a voice before his face breaks into a self deprecating grin, "Mostly I fear her. And Mac loves her and-"

Logan rolls his eyes, deadpanning, "And you are determined to make Mac's wedding day sunshine and daisies. I memorized the speech." Logan should have known better then to let Dick into the house when he was in such a dark mood. Although it wasn't like the blonde had been asking permission. He knows he's acting like a tool. He wants Mac and Dick's wedding to be great for both of them. God knows after everything they deserve it. But right now he's far too selfish to admit it. Far too broken and bruised and hung up on the girl whose responsible for all of it.

Thankfully Dick doesn't hold much of it against him. "Well so far this week hasn't been going how I fucking pictured dude," the blonde exclaims, waving his sandwich dangerously over open water, "Veronica's got potential brain damage, you look like you bare knuckle boxed with Tyson, and suddenly its become my job to lose sleep about you two lunging at each other over my swan ice sculptures. I just wanna kiss my bride and eat some cake. Why does this have to be difficult?"

Logan disregards most of Dick's speech because of one particular statement he can't abide, "Veronica _does not_ have brain damage. I sweet talked a nurse, she was released an two hours ago with a clean bill."

Dick's mouth falls open, amazed at how off topic his best friend has gotten. "I can't…," he stutters before trying again, "Do you hear yourself? She's had you by the throat since _junior year_. She's finally back in the same zip code as you. And I definitely walked in on some sort of twisted mating ritual at the hospital last night. So I ask again, what's the problem?"

Logan relaxes back into the chair, replying in a indifferent tone, "Veronica and I aren't getting back together Dick. We're not."

"Oh yeah," Dick groans skeptically, "you hate her. You're better off without her. What a bitch. Tell me one I haven't heard about a million times before." It's hard to assess from Logan's words, Dick's found, because he's so quick and a really spectacular liar. But all it takes is one look at his eyes when the Veronica subject is broached. When it comes to her, his usually cocky and self assured best friend turns to jello. And when he isn't about to melt he's hard as nails and ready to declare war. Logan doesn't even spare a passing glance for people he doesn't care about. If he was anywhere close to over Veronica he wouldn't bother getting drunk over her or giving a shit about the state of her head trauma.

"She's still hiding shit," Logan exclaims, sitting up again despite himself and effectively ending Dick's musings, "After all this time. I don't know what, but I know its something."

"And you are a _paragon_ of truth," Dick claims sarcastically before continuing, "Man, Veronica's always been shady, isn't that one of the qualities I'm supposed to find endearing?"

"Is it wrong to miss the days when all you thought about was weed and your surf board?" Logan questions wistfully, smirking at his best friend.

Dick raises a bleached eye brow, "Lets not pretend the two of you don't share a certain rebel image. What with all the petty crimes and misdemeanors-"

"-Getting accused of murder." Logan adds, trying not to flinch at the memory.

"Good times," Dick agrees obliviously, "All I'm saying is that you asked the girl to marry you. And that was when she was still rolling around in bushes pulling jobs for her dad. You knew what you were getting yourself into. I know because I was there at fucking Tiffany's _begging_ you to put away your gold card. However, despite my past reservations I think you should hear her out before you burn that bridge."

Logan pauses, staring at the blonde inquisitively, emotions flitting across his face rapid fire. Finally he asks, slightly shocked, "How much do you know Dick?"

"Man," Dick begins, raising his hands, eyes widening a bit like a deer in headlights, "I plan on being happily married. Which means I've heard, seen, and know _nothing_."

Logan considers prodding, knows he could get at least something. But a moment later Dick overestimates the width of the raft and capsizes, managing to save his beer but not his sandwich. Pieces of the epic monstrosity go everywhere in his formerly pristine pool.

"Don't worry man," Dick sputters, treading water with the dogged determinate of a golden retriever, "I got this."

Logan continues to look at the scene for a split second, a shadow of a smile appearing as Dick lunges for a piece of rye bread. And then he relaxes and lays down for a nap.

* * *

><p><em>1:00 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

After her hospital sign out and mildly awkward breakfast with Wallace, Veronica gets corralled into a spa day with Mac and Parker. The blonde is in rare form this afternoon. Tan, tall, and wrapped in a purple sundress, she is all smiles and legs.

She gives Veronica an exaggerated sad face from the passenger seat, "Rough night huh?"

"You could say that," Veronica smiles wryly as she opens the back door and slides in.

"Yeah," Mac agrees with a snort as she throws the car into gear and begins to back out of the drive way, "air bag to the face, you know in my book that's a solid Monday night."

Parker crosses her arms over her chest, eyeing Veronica's amused smile in the rearview mirror before quipping, "Oh I do love it when you two become the same, sarcastic soul sister. It really brings back the fondest memories of college."

"You always had enough fun for the both of us," Veronica recalls. Which was true, Parker had always been the life of the party. While Mac and Veronica were content to sit in a corner and talk all night to each other.

"I _still _have enough fun for the both of you," Parker agrees, and then with a devilish smile she pulls out a large bottle of French champagne from her purse. "And I've decided to make to make today no exception," she adds, winking for effect. Mac rolls her eyes, anticipating the fight before the girls even begin.

Veronica blanches, voice critical when she asks, "Did it slip your mind that I was involved in an alcohol related car accident less then twenty four hours ago?"

"This isn't for _you_," Parker defends immediately, edge in her voice now, "We're still not sure your brain's back to full function, this is for me and Mac. You're can be our DD, only try not to plow this one into a tree because I do _not_ love you enough to slam my fist through a window." Parker feels bad immediately after the words leave her mouth. But she's also a little relieved, she's had resentment towards Veronica for almost a decade. And there are somethings that just need to be said, especially if no one else is going to man up and knock some sense into this renegade maid of honor.

"From sugary to bitchy in three seconds," Veronica muses, finger on her lips, "now _that_ reminds me of college." She and Parker have never outwardly disliked each other, for Mac's sake mostly. But the awkwardness of the Logan situation and eventually the Piz situation had never really subsided. And it was still stuck between them even now.

"Just give me a second," Parker replies, struggling with cork, "we'll like each other again once I'm done with this."

"Doubt it," Veronica murmurs sharply, not in the mood to defend herself against anymore character assignation this afternoon.

Parker replies with melodramatic eye roll.

"Ladies," Mac interjects calmly as the car comes to a halt at a red light, "I understand that your game of boyfriend swap has left you both a little bitter. But this is supposed to be to help us relax." She seizes the bottle from Parker and sticks it under her seat, adding furtively, "Also I'm hoarding the booze. So you're both just gonna have to like each other as you are."

Parker looks about to argue, but then relaxes back into the seat. After a moment concluding dubiously, "Doubt it."

And despite herself, Veronica can't help but smile into the palm of her hand.

* * *

><p><em>4:00 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

Veronica emerges from her facial thoroughly harassed and with an inflamed T zone. She has been poked and prodded for the majority of her time at the spa, and her sore body and short temper are rapidly rushing together to create a train wreck of an attitude.

It is this annoyance that prompts her to corner Parker in the changing rooms while Mac is finishing up, "exfoliating" as their attendant had put it. Hands on her hips Veronica asks with an eye brow quirk, "So what's your problem Parker?"

The tall blonde turns slowly, wrapped in a thick white robe. She hadn't been counting on fighting with Veronica while half naked. Didn't really like fighting in any state. But she also hates this poor Veronica routine everyone seems to be adopting. In her opinion Veronica has always been to blame for her own unhappiness. "My problem," Parker starts, voice completely contained as she finishes with a straight face, "is that you're ridiculous."

"Excuse me?" Veronica blinks.

"Doesn't it get tiring?" Parker asks, her stoic face breaking into a mix of curiosity and concern. She has always been a pushover, and she hates to yell, "All these circles that you keep running in?"

"I'm not-" Veronica starts to argue.

But Parker's not listening, the words that have been stuck in her head for years finally pouring out, "It would be one thing if you'd changed, if either of you had managed to disentangle from your incestuous little web, but I come back and _nothing_ has changed. The same Logan and Veronica, angst level at the maximum, circling and snarling like you haven't been obsessed with each other since your first fucking kiss."

Veronica shakes her head, and smiles back at Parker with a mix of condescension and raw anxiety, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please," Parker snorts with another over dramatic eye roll, "I lived that lie already. Fell for every line. But now it's all so blissfully clear. You and Logan, you share this whole secretive history, this fucked up connection that no one else understands because you seem to outwardly loathe each other. But it's all a smoke screen. You love him and he loves you and its been that way since before we met. It'll be that way forever. No matter how many rings you return or ways you change your hair."

"I will not," Veronica replies sharply, trying to keep it together. But then her voice breaks and they both see the uncertainty in her eyes. The rest comes out in a whisper, and it's more of a hope then a fact, "love him forever."

Parker sags, all the anger bleeding from her eyes immediately. "Oh, Veronica," she snorts bitterly, "you make it so hard to hate you. Just when I think I can, you say something so sad like that." She takes a seat on the wooden bench that runs parallel to the row of changing rooms, mentally exhausted. "The two of you have your own breed of masochism," she mumbles sorrowfully.

After a moment Veronica sits next to her. Heavy head falling in her hands, "I'm so tired of talking about this Parker."

"It's scary isn't it?" Parker asks, beginning to sympathize with the former blonde ever so slightly, "This boyfriend game? Especially when you're playing for keeps. And I get that you have a whole host of issues, only one of which I can genuinely sympathize with. But I'd like to reiterate what I told you sophomore year, and junior year, and senior year: Logan, for all his faults, is your guy. He just is. The way he looks at you, it's like…God I'm still jealous after all this time. And for all your butch, loner tendencies it has always come back to him. The problem is that you're both masters of self sabotage."

"He'll never forgive me," Veronica asserts finally, face no longer pained but now drawn into some semblance of acceptance.

"Veronica," Parker exclaims, tone incredulous, "You really can't tell can you? You're not the only one with a soft marshmallow center. I'm pretty sure he could forgive you for anything."

Veronica's eyes are blood shot, and after a moment Parker sighs. "Okay, prepare yourself," she orders, sliding across the bench so there is no longer space between them, "I'm coming in for a hug. It isn't optional so don't try to fight." And then they do hug. Friends more by circumstance then anything else, but at least now no longer inwardly hateful of one another. Closer then ever before.

After a beat Parker stands, "You know, you're the only girl on the planet I'd have to talk into throwing herself at a movie star." And then without a hint of modesty Parker drops her robe and heads across the room. "Come on," she calls over her shoulder, "it's time for the hot stone massages."

* * *

><p><em>6:00 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

"It's like you're trying to kill me," Nadine accuses over the phone, legs propped up on her desk, "Slowly but surely. I have kids you know, you should really think about them the next time you pull a stunt like this."

"Oh you can trust that when I was being run off the road I was completely focused on how it would effect _you_," Logan deadpans, still sprawled across the chaise. Dick, devoted as ever, is on a food run.

"Your only redeeming quality is that you have the sense to say no comment every time someone sticks a microphone in your mouth," Nadine allows with a grumble, before getting back to work with a sigh, "The official story is that you were running to the store to pick up something up for the NBA star's baby daughter. We're emphasizing your heroics over your motives. You saved the damsel in distress and all that. It's very hot. Will you relay this to Veronica or do I have to?"

"Don't worry about Veronica, Nadine," Logan orders, before explaining warily, "You and I both know she doesn't even say no comment to a microphone."

"At least she seems to have grown out of her bird flipping habit," Nadine observes, allowing a slight affection to seep into her words.

"Give it time," Logan replies with similar amusement.

"Oh, I'm literally counting the seconds until she's home safe and away from you for another couple of years," Nadine reveals. Inspecting her nails now that she's handled the news she deems most important.

However Logan's about to ensure her rude awakening, "Well I'd study up on how to pronounce whatever comes after trillion then," Logan snarks, aware that he's in for it now, "Because Veronica's moving back home."

"Oh Jesus," Nadine blurts after a long pause, sitting ram rod straight in her desk chair as she fears the worst, "what did you do?"

"This has nothing to do with me," Logan exclaims, "It's painfully obvious to all that I've never known what the hell goes on in Veronica's head."

Nadine barely hears a word he says, already starting to scribble briskly on a note pad. She's talking mostly to herself now, "Magazines are gonna have you married in a month, there'll be an elopement and a secret baby. Get used to seeing your own face."

Logan smiles arrogantly, "There are worse things to look at."

"I'm hanging up now," Nadine blanches, fingers craving a glass of hard liquor to grip, "I have to go throw myself off the balcony of my building. The misery twins, back together again."

"We're not back together," Logan asserts loudly, feeling like its become some sort of mantra.

"I'm giving it two weeks," Nadine responds cynically, "And I think even that's ambitious. I'm sending you all the luck in the world though babe. It would make my life a lot easier if you did this star crossed thing for the rest of your lives."

The dial tone blares in his ears. And in the silence that follows he contemplate his smart phone thoughtfully. Guilt gripping his heart like a vise. He can't get the look of her expressionless face out of his mind. He's seen it before, years ago when he found her in a similar state in a parking garage. Then it was because of drugs someone else had given her. He'd been the hero then. And Nadine would make him the hero now. But he knew better. He always would.

He's never wanted to be this guy. Rage stuck his chest, cold and hard like the metal of a belt buckle. It's all just a little too reminiscent of his childhood. He doesn't want to yell at her. To make her feel bad. That has never been what he wanted.

And in the end it's the memory of his mother that makes the decision for him.

* * *

><p><em>6:00 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

She enters the house feeling genuinely refreshed. Whether it's from the beauty treatments or the good cry she had during her stone massage she can't be sure. The masseuse must have thought she was crazy, Mac certainly did, but Parker had reached across the distance and squeezed her hand. And of course that had made it worse and better at the same time.

Alicia is in the kitchen, hair wet from an after work shower. She's puzzling over an ice cream scooper, dropping generous helpings into three bowls. She smiles at Veronica warmly, "We weren't sure when you'd be home. I made a plate for you, it's in the refrigerator if you're hungry. But knowing you and your father I'm assuming you'd prefer a sundae."

Veronica grins wickedly, "Yes please." She's a little overwhelmed at unfamiliar mothering. Mostly she feels guilty at how long it has taken her to be grateful for Alicia. For the woman who takes care of her father now that she herself is basically unreachable. In all forms of the word unfortunately.

Alicia notices the drop of Veronica's smile and sets down the ice cream scooper, "How you feelin' sweetheart?"

Veronica swallows her conflict, and shrugs into feigned happiness, "Much better actually. Maybe there _is_ something to this whole relaxation thing."

Alicia smiles and turns, rummaging through the pantry for a fourth bowl, "Try to fit that advice into conversation with your Dad will you? He _just_ got home, his shift was supposed to end at two."

Veronica's ears perk up. Her dad doesn't work late anymore, not if he doesn't have to. His regular hours are something that he loves about being a sheriff. No. She is sure this is about her. About running into her at home or having to sit through an awkward dinner. She tries not to sound upset but it's a horrible attempt, "Where is he?"

"Out back," Alicia sighs, scrutinizing Veronica's face as only a mother can, "he likes to sit on the porch after a rough day. He used to go for walks with Back Up but now… Veronica is something going on between the two of you?"

She doesn't answer, heads for the back door with only a consolatory, "I'll talk to him."

Fear clouds her head. He has always had the ability to level with her with just a few words. Everyone else she can brush off or tune out. But never him. "You should have read one of my texts," she says as she leans against the door behind him, crossing her arms over her chest, "it would have saved you the trouble of having to avoid me."

"I can't figure out my new Black Berry," he murmurs, turning in the porch swing to look at her reproachfully, "and I wasn't avoiding you Veronica."

She covers the distance between them, taking a seat next to him and trying to start, "Dad-"

But he interrupts, eyes miles away, "Do you remember when you were seven? And you said you wanted to be just like me when you grew up? That you wanted to catch bad guys?"

"I'm not a little girl anymore Dad," she whispers into the chill of the night air, her whole body suddenly going cold. But she relents easily, sad smile sliding across her face, "But yes, I do vaguely recall a mortifying stretch of wearing a paper badge to school."

Keith keeps his face pointed at the sky but his voice is tight and she feels it like a physical weight. The lump in her throat grows to epic proportions as her past peace is leeched away. He continues, "I thought it was cute when you were seven and it was a dream. And then when you were seventeen and it was an aspiration I was wary. I hoped you would grow out of it. Or do something with it that wouldn't put your life at risk on a daily basis." He trails off, rubbing his forehead with a sigh before continuing, "And now you're twenty seven and you have stitches across your face and you're not calling when you need me and I just… you grew up too fast Veronica. And I didn't want this kind of life for you."

After a pause he adds, "I should have done better when you were younger, made it easier for you. You shouldn't have had to take care of me."

"We took care of each other," she argues, biting savagely down on her bottom lip. She hasn't looked more like a child in years. And her hands shake with everything she should say to him. Every little thing he taught her, every way he made her a better person, and all the times he loved her when no else did. Mostly she wants to tell him about the changes she's making. About how she quit her job and the new one she's accepted. But she doesn't think that's the point. That it would make up for all that's happened before this moment.

He reaches across the distance to squeeze her shoulder, finally turning to look at her face. He is older. She hasn't noticed before. But there are wrinkles that she doesn't remember being there, a weariness he's earned in their time apart. "You were a kid," he concludes sadly, "that kind of responsibility, all the positions I let you put yourself in…I'd do it all differently if I could."

"Dad," she replies, pulling a Parker and sliding across the bench to hug him, "none of that was your fault. You were, are, the best thing in my life." She squeezes him tightly, "I love you _so_ much."

"Oh, honey," he exhales into her hair, "you have no idea." He'd keep her in this moment if he could. Trap her here where he can watch over and protect her forever. Because she is a grown up now, but still has so much to learn. So much he should have been teaching her when he was too busy trying to keep their life from shattering into a million pieces.

Darrell calls a moment later. He needs help with a math problem. And after her father pulls away she sits on the porch alone, her cell phone pressed between her palms. She thinks about it briefly, contemplates what she would say if he even answered the phone. And what he would say back.

And then she remembers the arm across her chest as the car ricocheted, the warm hand brushing her ear, sad smiles and the ache in the pit of her stomach. She doesn't know how she let things get so far in the hospital. How they ended up at their unspoken impasse. How with the passage of time she has lost her ability to keep him at arm's length. To detach and see him as an enemy instead of an ally.

It's too risky. He would read something into it, or she would say something she shouldn't. A slippery slope she is already stumbling up. She isn't in the right state to have a conversation with the man who has mostly deserved better then her. She is frazzled and raw and completely unprepared for the new life that is rapidly approaching. She still hasn't figured out how he will fit in. Or if he will even want to.

Alicia comes for her, and she forgets her phone on the porch swing when she goes in for her sundae. It won't be found until morning.

* * *

><p><em>6:05 pm Tuesday September 4<em>

The phone vibrates against the swing. No one answers and a message is left.

_"Veronica, hey it's me…it's Logan. I just…I should have said this at the hospital. I'm sorry you were in the car. I'm sorry about the things I said before the accident. I'm glad you're okay. __ And...I think we should talk. We can't keep up like this, for the sake of the wedding and especially if you're moving back. Are you really moving back?" _Pause._ "Fuck, just stop by the house tomorrow okay? I'll be reading scripts all day. Even if you're screening right now, which I suspect is the case, come over and we'll talk. The code's 8764. I promise not to be a dick." _Pause._ "Bye."_

**Sorry it took so long and that there is minimal LoVe interaction. I'll try to be better but right now I can't make any promises. **


	9. Drowning

**Chapter 9**

Drowning

_10:30 am Wednesday September 5_

It's a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. However, Veronica can't appreciate it, as she's currently having a minor freakout over a car seat in the back of her fathers hulk of a van. Naomi, whose seated inside the safety contraption, is highly amused as Veronica curses under her breath for what feels like the fiftieth time. She can assemble a gun at record pace, but this thing deserves a class of its own.

Admitting defeat Veronica sheepishly leans across the car and sticks her head out of the open door. "I've never been very good at this," she admits, eyes pleading for help. Jackie is still in her pajamas, sipping coffee as she sits on the stone steps of her porch. Torn between annoyance and amusement. This whole event had been pitched by her husband as an effort to cheer Veronica up. There had also been something about a morning off for her. But of course neither of them had factored in Veronica's complete incompetence when it came to children.

Jackie crosses the driveway, her silk robe catching slightly in the breeze. "It just takes practice," Jackie replies graciously as she straps Naomi expertly and in barely ten seconds.

"I wasn't talking about the car seat," Veronica mumbles, pushing her sunglasses higher up on the bridge of her nose.

"She doesn't mind," Jackie answers back, kissing her sleepy daughter on her chubby cheek before taking a step away from the car and regarding Veronica, "If you don't want to go you can say so."

Veronica hesitates, biting her lip as she stares at the mother, "What if I drop her?"

Jackie smiles, leaning down to pick up the leather diaper bag and hand it to Veronica, "You're _not_ going to drop her."

"What if she cries?" Veronica replies, coming up with another question immediately.

"It's not an if it's a when," Jackie laughs, squeezing the brunette's arm before heading back towards the front door, hesitating to add over her shoulder with a devilish smile, "You're gonna be fine. If I can do it at seventeen, you can handle it for three hours pushing thirty."

"I am not _pushing thirty_," Veronica hisses to Jackie's retreating form.

"Have a good morning Auntie Veronica," Jackie calls from the house before closing the door.

Veronica sighs, glancing at Naomi, who is fighting to keep her eyes open. After a moment of contemplation she closes the backseat door and heads to the front of the car. She has a million things on her mind, but right now anxiety overwhelms all her other worries.

She's handling it though. As usual repression is the best strategy. She turns the key in the ignition and backs out of the driveway.

* * *

><p><em>11:00 am Wednesday September 5<em>

"Okay kid, it's just you and me."

Naomi sits in what can only be described as a little raft. There are holes for her legs and extra padding to support her back. Her bathing suit is pink with white polk a dots and her dark chocolate eyes fixate on Veronica's face. One hand is stuck in her little mouth and the other is playing with the blunt edges of Veronica's long hair.

Veronica is clad in a green bikini and is clutching the baby tightly as she eyes the suddenly foreboding kiddie pool. There are about ten other mom's smiling at her encouragingly but she doesn't let Naomi go even after they've safely trailed into the deeper end, up to Veronica's waist. Her heart pounds irrationally, sure she'll screw it up, thinking of all the ways this can go wrong.

"It never gets easier," the mother nearest to her whispers with a polite smile. Her eyes flashing in commiseration, assuming she's talking to another mom. Her own son's chubby legs kick through the clear water as he sits in a floatie identical to Naomi's. Veronica nods, feigning what she hopes comes across as understanding. The truth is she doesn't know what's happening, why this is so hard for her. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows it has something to do with control. Relinquishing it and retaining it. How everything seems to go sideways the very moment she lets go even fractionally.

Slowly, ever so slightly she lowers the baby towards the water. Naomi gets sick of her pace as soon as her toes dip into the pool. She flails wildly, begging to make her own decisions, and Veronica relents, her legs slackening as she allows them both to sink into the water.

Naomi giggles against Veronica's stomach where Veronica is still holding her, flotation device and all. She's a natural and her legs kick, pinwheeling small circles as she breaks into another fit of laughter. Veronica can't help but smile. The tension in her shoulder receding as she finally lets the baby hover in the water independently.

Naomi goes crazy, hands splashing and eyes sparkling. "Hey look at that," the friendly mom observes, "most of them cry for at least the first ten minutes. Always freaked out by something so new. Looks like you've got a fearless one of your hands."

And Veronica does look. Almost immediately Naomi inadvertently splashes water in her eyes, a consequence of her own reckless abandon. For a moment she falters, hesitating as she appraises the water with newfound caution. But then her tiny fist comes down, and she dissolves into laughter again as the droplets splatter everywhere.

Veronica grins, whole body relaxing, "Looks like."

* * *

><p><em>12:00 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

He had long ago accepted that Mac doesn't really understand the concept of a day off. She is supposed to be taking the next week and a half to focus on the wedding and then their honeymoon but, as usual, it isn't exactly working out. She's been up since six and now sits curled up in an arm chair furiously typing an email on her laptop. She's barefoot in dark jeans and a tight concert T shirt from some indie band concert she'd dragged him to a few months ago. He's taking his vacation a bit more seriously, still in last night's sweat pants lounging on the couch eating pretzels right out of the bag.

"Babe," he starts suddenly as the cop procedural he'd half been paying attention to goes to commercial. He startles her out of her trance, and she looks up at him with slightly widened eyes, "what did you think about my theory last night?"

She bites her lip, trying to recall their conversation from the night before and drawing a blank. But she still smiles in anticipation, because Dick's theories are usually pretty interesting, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He flips off the TV, focusing his full attention as he prompts, "Come on, my theory. We talked about it right after I got home last night."

Her amused smile widens as she remembers the vivid details, explaining fondly, "Dick, you weren't wearing pants and it was after one o'clock in the morning. I was tired, pissed, and then preoccupied because_ I_ wasn't wearing pants."

Dick cracks a grin of his own, shrugging in mock innocence as he points out, "You seemed to be paying pretty good attention after that."

She rolls her eyes, disregarding his innuendo and keeping them on track, "Anything you said before I was naked wasn't retained. You're gonna need to elaborate hun."

"I think Logan and Veronica should get back together," he states calmly, like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Mac blinks, then takes a deep breath as she slowly shuts her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. Her elbows comes to rest on her knees as she sets her chin on top of her interlaced fingers and regards him intently,"Dick, Veronica and Logan are in a very delicate place right now. I don't think it's a good idea for you to get involved."

"That's basically what Logan said," Dick relents with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair frustratedly, finding it hard to meet her eye's suddenly. Guilty that he's even bringing this already glaring problem to her attention during what's supposed to be a period of relaxation. Even after all this time it still unnerves him to find himself caring so much. About anything. Let alone a girl. This girl. He regains his footing and begins rambling, "But babe I'm fairly confident that we have to get those two blissed out instead of pissed off in order to keep the wedding together. I've developed a couple strategies-"

He doesn't realize she's moved from her chair until she's in front of him. Falling into his lap, her legs straddle him on the couch and effectively steal any coherent words he'd been about to speak. She smiles at him affectionately as he stares up at her in bewilderment. "Hey crazy," she murmurs, one arm curling around his neck and the other resting at his jaw, fingers concentrating on the hard curve and the twitching adam's apple below, "Are you going to be at our wedding?"

His hands, flustered at her legs, finally trail up her thighs and come to rest comfortably on her hips as he pretends to contemplate with quizzical eyes, "I was kind of planning on it yeah."

She lowers her forehead until it's resting against his own, gaze clear and cheerful despite her resolute notions, "Well I was thinking about showing up too. And as long as we both get down the aisle and say 'I do' nothing else matters," she kisses him quickly, pulling away to demand sweetly, "Stop obsessing about perfect. I don't need it. I just need you."

She pauses, glancing down a bit sheepishly, knowing the lines are pretty much verbatim from every lame romantic comedy she's ever seen. Too busy to notice that he's watching her. Can't seem to stop as she waits for him to respond. To answer back with something witty or silly to lighten the mood. But, as happens too often when she goes serious on him, he chokes. Two sentences leaving him absolutely speechless. He tilts her chin instead, forcing her to look at him as he draws her close and kisses her, slow and with what he hopes is the implication that she is amazing. Perfection as far as he can see.

He is about to lose his mind, hand under her shirt hovering at the small of her back, when her phone starts vibrating on the coffee table. "Shit," she murmurs against his mouth, wincing as she attempts to break away.

"Oh no way," he answers immediately, devious smile firmly in place as he affords her only a few inches of space, hands gripping her legs resolutely, "You can't say stuff like that and not expect repercussions." With a waggle of his eyebrows he flips them, trapping her between him and the couch and eliciting a high pitched squeal from his bride to be. Her phone is forgotten immediately.

"Piz and Parker will be here soon for lunch," she murmurs almost incoherently as he begins to concentrate all his powers of distraction on her neck.

Her fingers are fisted in his hair, and he glances at the watch slung low on her wrist for the time."Forty five minutes," he replies, distractedly as his mouth once again finds it mark and his hands resume their travels up her shirt. "I can work with that," he whispers into her skin. But she's not listening anymore.

* * *

><p><em>12:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

"How was she?" Jackie asks as she greets Veronica at the door. Her daughter is napping against Veronica's shoulder, thumb stuck in her mouth.

Veronica smiles as she hands over the infant after kissing the top of her head, "Great. She was great Jackie."

Jackie beams, moving out of the way so Veronica can set the car seat and diaper bag inside the foyer. "Do you want to stay for lunch?" Jackie asks casually, "I could make you a sandwich."

Veronica glances up, hesitating for only a split second, "I'd love to."

* * *

><p><em>3:00 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

He isn't thinking about it. Really he's not. Except that his fingers drum against his leg whenever he tries to concentrate and he's done more laps in his pool then read lines in any of the piles of scripts accumulated on his desk. He's decided she probably isn't coming. That it was stupid to leave the message or hold out hope in the first place.

He has his headphones on and is twitching on a barstool in his kitchen with the outline of what promises to be a terrible action flick balanced on his knees when he sees the man standing in front of his sliding doors. Slowly, ever so slowly he pulls out the earbuds, eyes fixed on the shadowed intruder under the awning of his deck. "Maria?" he calls, although he is well aware the figure is not his four foot nothing middle aged polish maid.

The man opens the porch door and steps into the light and Logan recognizes him immediately from the surveillance photos. Daniel Jameson. "How the hell did you get in here?" he hisses. His eyes focusing on the weapon Daniel's holding in his right hand. A pistol that glints in the sunlight trailing in from his kitchen's skylight.

"You've given your gate code to a lot of women Logan," the man smirks, "It didn't take that much to get one of your more bitter visitors to give it up."

Logan barely register the explanation, he's too busy trying to figure out a way to end this situation that doesn't involve him with a bullet wound. "What do you want Daniel?" he asks, sure to keep his voice in perfect control.

"You know what I want Echolls. We had a deal," is Jameson's tight reply as his eyes flare with rage.

If he gets through this Logan is going to kill Weevil. With his bare fucking hands. "My associate made a mistake," Logan explains calmly, "I never intended to renege on our agreement. You'll find the money in your account shortly."

"Why should I trust you?" Danny asks with a frown, tone serious.

Logan can't help but snort, eyes glinting and razor sharp, "What other choice do you have?"

Danny glances down at the gun in his hand, smirk returning, "I can think of a few."

* * *

><p><em>3:03 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

The blue sundress isn't meant to impress. She has limited wardrobe options since her possessions are still in transit from New York City. It's a perk that it's her prettiest casual dress. Just a coincidence really.

She is showered and has put in the effort of lipstick when she pulls up to Logan's gate and types in his code. Lunch with Jackie had slowly turned into an hour and a half of talking and she is still nervous that after making him wait her arrival won't be quite as well received as the message described. The doors open slowly and she drums her fingers on the wheel as she waits.

She knows something is wrong as soon as she pulls up the driveway. Even Logan is too cautious to leave the gate to his back yard flung open. He is no longer openly hostile to paparazzi, but he's generally protective of his personal life. He keeps his doors and gates locked religiously, a habit of childhood.

There is a car she doesn't recognize in the driveway.

She opens her Dad's glove compartment, where he keeps his service weapon when he's off duty. Alicia doesn't like the gun in the house with Darrell so it's kept in the locked car in the garage when her dad is home. She knows she's probably being irrational, but if there's one thing she learned as an agent it's too trust her instincts. She double checks that the safety is on and slips the gun into her purse.

She doesn't know her way around Logan's house. Has only been there once and it was in the middle of the night. She hears two voices coming from the back of the house and walks slowly towards them. She stops short when she hears a crash and then sounds of a struggle. The gun is in her hands immediately as she speeds through the living room and down a long hallway.

She steps into the kitchen just in time to see Logan crash to the floor bleeding from his head. A man stands above him, blonde hair and built like a brick wall, he has a fresh black eye and a gun. Veronica's heart lurches into her throat as he bellows, "That's enough." His hand is shaky and she can tell he's not comfortable with the pistol he holds, but he's still raising it to point at Logan's chest.

Her response is automatic, she clicks the safety off her father's gun and cocks it, aiming at the intruder. "Drop your weapon," she commands.

Both men whirl, Logan curses while the stranger's eyes widen like he's seen a ghost. "You look just like her," he murmurs, transfixed, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was invited," she hisses at this man she is almost positive she has never met but who seems to be familiar with her, "And I'm guessing you weren't. Now drop the gun."

"Veronica I can handle this," Logan hisses from the floor. His eyes are fixed on where the man's gun is now trained, no longer at him but pointing down near Veronica's legs.

"Oh it looks like it Logan," she snaps back, eyes never leaving the man's as she reaches across Logan's marble counter top for his house phone. "Drop the gun now," she repeats as her small fingers type in 911 without looking down, "Or I _will_ shoot you."

This seems to shock the man out of his trance, as he sees her dialing he immediately turns and focuses his gun back on Logan, "Make the call and I'll kill him."

"No you won't," she remarks calmly, unfortunately she's been trained to deal with this exact situation. Her face is blank even though her heart is slamming against her ribs like it wants to escape, "You'd be dead before your finger even twitches."

Logan's jaw clenches as he watches her, unable to decide how he feels about this turn of events. Mostly he's glad the gun is no longer pointed in even her genial direction. It's actually much more comforting to contemplate his death then hers. They are in this position because he has been trying to protect her. He can't even think about it ending in her death. Nope, he closes his eyes for a split second, not going to think about it.

Despite her tough talk Veronica remains frozen, unable to force herself to complete the call. The man grins at her hesitation, "Something tells me you aren't as confident as you seem." He takes a deep breath and looks at her, explaining calmly, "Here's the deal: I'm going to walk out of here. And you're going to let me or this is going to get bloody for all of us."

She glances at Logan, whose face is draining of color as blood pours from his scalp, his eyes are hard and unreadable. She knows that if she allows this situation to remain at an impasse for much longer he will do something irreparably stupid. So she makes the decision for both of them. "Go," she whispers.

He heads towards the kitchen door without even a glance at Logan. But hesitates as he passes her, smile arrogant, "If you ever see Leanne again, tell her Danny says thanks for such a _great_ story."

Veronica's mind races but her face holds no emotion as he continues on. She turns with him, refusing to let him out of her sight until he is out of the kitchen, through the living room, and slamming the front door closed. She locks it behind him and draws in a shuddering breath, resting her head on the thick wood. After a moment her grip on the gun relaxes and it drops to the floor with a clatter.

"Veronica," Logan calls, sounding closer then he should. Her eyes fly open as she realizes that just because he's bleeding and bruised doesn't mean he won't try to follow her. She turns immediately, finding him in the hallway staggering towards her, blood on his hands and on the walls.

She stares at him dazed for a split second, their eyes stuck together in a thick haze of relief and confusion. She wants to demand answers, but is kind enough to know now is not the time. "Veronica," he repeats, trying to take another step towards her and stumbling, cursing as he catches himself with a palm stretched towards the wall.

She moves then. "I'm fine," she whispers as she wraps an arm around his waist and leads them back into the kitchen where he practically falls into a barstool. She calls the cops on his house phone even though he opens his mouth to protest. While she reports the crime clinically into the phone he locates his cell in the pocket of his jeans and contacts Nadine.

She grabs paper towels while she speaks, the phone caught between her ear and shoulder. Without asking she circles Logan, pressing them to the wound on his head from behind. He hisses, breaking off mid sentence, but then relaxes into her grip, his head resting against her collar bone as she works to staunch his injury.

He's still talking when she hangs up the phone, announcing quietly that the authorities are on their way. Logan's hands drum on the counter as he spars with Nadine. She's just as curious as his agent but knows from past experience that the lines Logan feeds Nadine aren't always accurate. She'll wait until later to get the whole story out of him.

His nervous tick, however, she can't abide. It's making her anxious, upping her heart rate. So being sure to keep the pressure on his head she leans forward and laces their finger together with her free hand. Logan's words trail off yet again but he relents for the second time.

After a moment he squeezes her hand reassuringly, and she can't help but let out a deep breath.

* * *

><p><em>4:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

They have been through with lunch for quite some time when Mac's phone rings. She and Parker are on their way for the blonde's dress fitting, chatting about the wedding reception.

She answers without looking at the caller ID, "Hey hun, what's up?"

Immediately the smile drops off of Mac's face. The brunette's eyes widen, her mouth eventually falling open in horror, "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

**Please review! Writing this chapter was exhausting and I want to know what you think! Plus feedback makes my day.**


	10. Delusional

**Chapter 10**

Delusional

_3:07 pm Wednesday September 5_

She knows Nadine is saying something he doesn't want to hear because after a snort and 'no thanks' he hangs without saying goodbye. Veronica opens her mouth to comment but her purse begins to vibrate on the counter before she can speak. She doesn't need to guess who it is.

She sighs, attempting to pull her hand out of Logan's grip to reach for her phone. But instead of letting her go his grasp tightens. "Don't," he groans in frustration. Trying to spare her the moral compromises.

She hesitates, eyebrows knitting together as she replies evenly, "Tell me what she said." She's too curious for her own good. And her whole body is dying to know what Nadine has to say. What crumb of information she can glean from their conversation.

He smiles wryly in defeat. "That she missed you," he whispers in lying reply.

"Logan," she sighs, tugging again, "it's not a big deal,"

"I'll remind you of that once the conversation is over," he responds, releasing her in a swift motion, eyes closing.

She flips open the phone and Nadine's voice fills her ear immediately. "Veronica," she hisses as she speeds down PCH, "he's being an idiot. You need to do exactly what I say."

Veronica sighs, reminding herself to keep the grip on the towel slowing the bleeding from Logan's head no matter how distracted she gets. She already regrets not listening to him, "Explain."

Nadine takes a deep breath, aware she's about to throw a match into a can of gasoline. Veronica loves giving orders. She has a very big problem taking them. The older woman keeps her voice calm but authoritative, "Hide the gun now. Put it in the safe in his office. You scared off the attacker. He ran. _Nothing_ else. Do not even contemplate getting in the ambulance with him or driving your own car off the property. Take one of the cars in the garage after you give your statement. Go home for an hour and compose yourself. I'll arrange for you to meet us at the hospital at the back entrance."

Veronica and Nadine had always had a tentative relationship. They shared mutual respect and occasionally affection. But that all went out the window when it came to differing on what was best for Logan. A situation that arose quite frequently. Veronica opens her mouth in shock, the words coming out quickly and calmly, "Nadine, honestly, I like you. But go to he-"

Nadine interrupts before she can finish the good part, "Veronica please-"

Quickly Veronica seizes Logan's wrist and brings it up to hold the paper towels so she can veer away from him, her voice lowering as she exclaims, "It's not my gun Nadine. I had to turn it in when I turned in my badge. It's my father's gun, I'm driving his car. He's going to want to know where it is when he gets here." Her father's off duty actually, he's supposed to be at a desk doing paperwork all day. But she'd rather Nadine think it's Keith she's going to have to answer to then hear the truth: after so long as a law enforcer she's no longer comfortable lying to the authorities.

"God I forgot you're the fucking Sheriff's daughter," Nadine snaps, "And what do you mean _turned in your badge_? Wait, never mind. One goddamn crisis at a time. Hide the gun Veronica. Your Dad's not going to call you out because he loves you. And because of your mysterious ability to turn the men in your life into blundering _idiots_. Hide the gun. Get into the car. Meet us at the hospital. Trust me like you used to. Because you know I'm right about…a hundred percent of the time."

Her mind races, begrudgingly accepting that Nadine might be right. That this all might go down easier if she doesn't come off as a gun toting vigilante. Veronica's voice lowers to a whisper, she can feel Logan's eyes boring into her back, "I'll hide the gun. I'm riding in the ambulance."

She knows Logan hears because the chair he's sitting screeches backwards as he tries to stand. Veronica whirls immediately and holds out her hand, flashing him a warning glare. Nadine's voice has screech level, "Veronica! Don't you understand? It's been a _day_ since the car accident. I can't have you linked to him like this. Not again. Think about what they'll say. What they'll write. This will follow you both around for the rest of your lives. This is his _career_. You're the rational one. You always have been. Think about this _rationally_ for a second and you'll know that I'm right."

She does thinks about it for a moment. Knowing that if she puts all her emotions aside the answer is clear. That in this situation she has to be the rational one even if it drives him crazy. "One hour," she whispers into the phone, eyes holding Logan's gaze. It feels more like betraying him then protecting him. He falls back into the chair.

"That's perfect babe," Nadine agrees.

"You'll be there with him?" she questions irrationally as she starts to head towards Logan again. Of course Nadine will be there, she'll want all the answers before Veronica can get at them.

"I'm in the car on my way," Nadine explains, "I'll meet the ambulance at the doors I swear."

Again Veronica hesitates. "Okay," she relents eventually, leaning her elbows on the counter across from Logan, "Okay."

"Thank you Veronica," the agent replies in a fake cheerful tone.

"You know Nadine," Veronica replies back just as cheerfully, "I forgot how much I fucking hate you sometimes."

That gets a smile out of the sullen boy whose avoiding her obvious stare. "You don't exactly make my life easy sweetheart," Nadine replies with an amused sigh before hanging up.

She sets the phone down quietly, leaning over the counter and laying her head in her hand. It takes a minute but Logan finally meets her gaze. She knows he's still sulking, but he's doing a good job hiding it. "She got you," Logan teases reservedly.

"So bad," Veronica groans, grinning gamely. But after a moment her smile falters and she regards him warily, "Logan you realize that eventually-"

"I realize Veronica," he replies quietly, his face grimacing for a split second as his grip on the towels shifts. She knows he's probably in a lot more pain then he's will to admit, "Just please, not now."

She doesn't push it, ears prickling at the sirens in the distance, "Where's your safe?"

* * *

><p><em>3:15 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

Leo really doesn't know what to expect when he pulls up Logan Echolls' driveway. Veronica had called dispatch less then five minutes ago. She had reported in an intruder in the house but at that time he had already fled. She had stated Echolls' had a head wound and would need an ambulance. She had given his address and gate code and then hung up.

He has just ordered two of his men to check the perimeter when the front door opens. Veronica has an arm wrapped around a protesting Logan. Whose holding a bloody wad of something to his swollen forehead. One of his legs seems to be injured because he's walking with a slight limp. To Leo's immense relief Veronica doesn't seem to have a scratch on her. He doesn't relish having to deal with Sheriff Mars on any case involving his daughter. Much less taking lead on a search for a man whose assaulted Keith's one and only.

Leo meets them at the steps, taking in their reserved faces, "What the hell happened?"

Veronica's attention is elsewhere. She doesn't show much, but there is some sort of phantom concern in her expression, "He needs to get in the ambulance now Leo. You can talk to him after they've checked him out at the hospital."

Leo laughs, glancing down at the ground before looking back up with a slight smile and squared shoulders. He'd forgotten for a second what he was up against, "You're not in charge here Veronica."

Logan opens his mouth to take charge of the situation, figuring if Veronica can't do it with persuasion he'll do it with threats. But his former blonde gets there first, eyes immediately taking a look of pleading and blind panic, "I'll tell you everything you want to know. He's lost a lot of blood though, don't make this difficult. _Please_."

Leo stares at couple, once again confronted with the fact that Logan may lie for a living, but that Veronica's the better actor hands down. Even Logan glances at the top of her head like he's shocked. Only Veronica knows that none of it's an act, and she'll never tell. Leo backs off, "I wasn't going to." He turns towards the arriving ambulance, motioning to the EMTS, "Strap him in boys."

Logan's jaw clenches as the men come for him, and he is pulled away from Veronica's grip awkwardly and without comment. "I'll see you soon," she whispers as goodbye, to which he makes no reply.

Leo's mind races, the dynamic is constantly shifting between these two. Leo watches until Echolls' gets to the stretcher before he turns back to Veronica, who is still entranced. Lips pursed and eyes guilty. The wheels in his head begin to turn in suspicion, "You're not going to insist on going with him?"

Veronica takes a minute to return to reality, big baby blues blinking up to focus on him. "No," she states calmly, "I'm talking to you and then I'm taking Logan's car to the hospital."

Her attention is caught again, the doors of the ambulance are closing. Leo says the first thing that pops into his head, something he's sure will get her attention, "Is that some sort of publicity strategy?"

Veronica's head snaps back towards him immediately, and the contempt in her eyes tells him he's hit one of Veronica's usually untouchable nerves. "Just ask the questions deputy," she hisses, chin jutting out as her arms come to cross over her chest.

* * *

><p><em>3:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

Veronica manages to give Leo the slip after ten hurried minutes. The truth is the tap of her foot gets on his nerves and he knows where she lives and where she'll be in exactly forty five minutes. So he lets her go because the deputy knows her well enough to see when she's on the verge of cracking.

A few of Logan's lawyers show up to supervise the crime scene investigators and make sure nothing else scandalous occurs as the police comb through the first floor of Logan's house. Veronica spends just enough time in there to get Logan clothes for when he's released and to grab the car keys for the jackass yellow Xtera. Which Logan just can't seem to part with and continues to update religiously.

She turns her cellphone off, but makes a call from Logan's car phone. Dick answers on the third ring, "'Sup dude? Piz and I are on our way to the course. Wanna join in for eighteen holes of me kicking your ass?"

"Dick, it's Veronica," she explains distractedly, as she searches the glove compartment and middle console for a pair of sunglasses before pulling out of the driveway.

"Naturally," Dick deadpans, "what are you doing in Logan's car she demon?"

"Oh, you know the usual," Veronica replies cheerfully as she pulls on a pair of dark shades and rolls up the tinted windows, heading for the gates, "just following Logan's ambulance to the emergency room."

"What are you talking about?" Dick questions, concern dripping in despite his attempts to remain skeptical.

"I wish I knew Richard," Veronica keeps her voice cheerful even as she pulls out into the intersection in front of Logan's house. The street is already becoming littered with white vans and she's blinded by flash bulbs, "A man broke into his house with a gun. He was about five seconds away from a bullet to the brain when I came in. Logan seemed to know the guy. So now, I have the unenviable position of asking _you_ for information."

"Veronica I have no idea what's happening," Dick replies evenly, trying to keep all he does know from leaking through. Beside him in the car Piz is staring at him with questions forming on the tip of his tongue.

"What a fucking shock," Veronica hisses before hanging up on him. After a moment of contemplation she pulls a screeching U turn and heads to the one place she knows she can get her answers.

* * *

><p><em>3:45 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

She goes through his desk first. And after it's in shambles and she's found nothing she starts picking the lock on his file cabinet. She's just gotten the thing cracked when she hears a throat clear behind her. Quickly she pulls out the file in front, cleverly labeled Echolls, Asshole.

When she turns Weevil's regarding her curiously with his arms crossed over his chest. He nods towards the window of his office door, which she busted breaking in, "Subtle."

She thought he would be here when she showed up. And when he hadn't been she had improvised. "What are you doing closed at 3:30 on a weekday anyway?" she replies back with a smirk.

"Some of us have kids to pick up from daycare," Weevil replies back with a smirk of his own. He takes a moment to survey the wreckage of his office before his eyes come back to rest on her, "I always knew you were high strung when it came to guys. But this is a little much. I'm gonna want my file back V."

Veronica's grip tightens, her smile becoming rigid and plastic, "Try it and I'll add assault to my Wednesday afternoon crime spree." Her calm front drops slightly as she explains, "Logan's in the _hospital_ Weevil. Someone broke into his house, waved a gun around, and then beat the shit out of him."

The news seems to shake Weevil too, his eyes widen ever so slightly, "What?"

"Who is he Weevil?" she continues as if he hadn't interrupted. But it's worse now. She can feel the lump that's been stuck in her throat for years finally unknotting itself, "What is going on?"

She doesn't seem to know she's crying. Weevil doesn't ever think he's seen her out of control, much less bordering on meltdown, "Veronica, calm down."

"He knew me," she murmurs, unable to let it go, "And Leanne. What's Logan mixed up in? And what the hell does it have to do with my mother?"

He takes a deep breath, "I can't tell-"

"Mr. Navarro," the voice cuts through the air. It's the building's security responding to the office's silent alarm.

Veronica's face goes frantic, imagining spending the day in jail instead of at the hospital. Weevil rolls his eyes, motioning towards the window. "Fire escape," he hisses.

He forgets to take back his file.

* * *

><p><em>3:45 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

He's always had trouble sitting still. His body tends to move without him even notching. Not exactly conducive for a CT scan, where they order you to remain perfectly in place. His mind is racing, and he just can't help himself.

The technician comes on over the tiny speaker sounding pissed. He threatens that they'll have to do this again and again until they get it right. Logan's also not a fan of small spaces. When he was young he used to hide in closets before and after his father went off on tear. And ever since he has suffered from mild claustrophobia. His back is starting to hurt.

A nurse comes on now. Her voice is low and soft, and he can't help but wonder vainly if she would be half as helpful if she hadn't read the name on his chart. She tells him most people try to think of relaxing memories. Like lying on a beach or sitting in front of a fire.

A relaxing memory. He's always been short on those. But he closes his eyes anyway, determined. Think of something peaceful he tells himself. Think of something nice.

_She's locked the door. And he expects tears, yelling, but there is nothing. Silence on the other side. He lays his head against the wood, "Veronica," he murmurs, not angry, just tired, "come out."_

_She's trying to catch her breath, wrapped in a blanket in the unlit room. She stares at herself in the mirror for a long time, eyes blank as her mind races. It's too long. He's gone when she finally opens the door. Emerging, she pulls her jeans and T shirt back on quickly, thinking he's left his own penthouse suite. _

_But he's in the kitchen, bare except for the unbuttoned jeans slung low on his hips. He still has the box and he's studying the ring with a drawn face. He doesn't look up, and she approaches slowly, wary that he has every right to be upset with her. He doesn't move away when she gets close though, just sighs and allows her arms to wrap around him. _

_After a moment with her forehead resting against his chest she relents. "Okay," she whispers with her breath stuck in her throat, "Okay. Ask me."_

_She feels his whole body go rigid, "Is this going to end painfully?"_

_"I don't know," she replies slowly, pulling away slightly so she can look into his eyes. She shoves her hands in her pockets and tries not to show how painfully uncomfortable she is. "Just please don't get down on one knee," she pleads._

_"Fine," he replies with slight annoyance. But maybe he can see something in her eyes, because after a moment his face softens and he reaches forward to draw out her hands so he can lace their fingers together. "Veronica," he begins, voice brimming, "marry me. Because I love you. Like crazy and for years. Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Because I can't imagine it any other way. And I know you want it too."_

_"Marry me," he continues, "Because you're beautiful and brilliant and drive me insane. Because you're unpredictable and volatile and deceptively sweet at the center. Marry because it will make you happy . Because it will make me so happy. And because I know you're scared. I am too. But this will work. I think the two of us are the only thing that will. That ever has."_

_It's short and so sweet. Exactly what she's come to expect but doesn't know if she really deserve. She looks down at the ring, sitting on the counter now, imagining all that it implies. She's seen exactly how bad a marriage can end. All of her nightmares converging. But she's never thought about it like this. Like a beginning rather then an ending. She's never thought about it with him. An endless loop of lazy afternoons spent in bed with the man she loves. Has loved for what feels like forever. She looks up at him finally, before she whispers, "Yes."_

_It takes him a minute,"Seriously?" He was expecting to be disappointed. For this to be bad and horrible and epically painful. _

_She snatches the box off the counter and slips the ring onto her own finger. She throws the box over her shoulder and holds up her newly decorated left hand with a wry smile,"Seriously."_

* * *

><p><em>4:15 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

She can't stop crying now. She doesn't know why. She didn't cry when they broke up the last and, for all she knew, final time. When she picked her engagement ring up off his floor and walked out of his life like she had always threatened. She hadn't cried when she had kissed her family goodbye and moved to a strange city. Over all the long distance birthday wishes and missed Christmases. She didn't cry when she lost their baby. But these past few days and now, in his hospital room, she is inconsolable.

Nadine is pacing endlessly. "If you don't calm the fuck down they're going to kick you out," Nadine hisses finally, "I thought we said you were going to _compose_ yourself?" The woman has never seen Veronica cry. Never seen her as less then a force to be reckoned with. It's freaking her out now that the tiny girl is fraying at the seams. It adds even further anxiety to her already stressful day.

Veronica's never really been the aggressor in a physical altercation before. She won't back down from a fight but she's tries to avoid situations that will end with her sporting black eyes. She wants to hit Nadine though, so bad she's clenching her fists, "Nadine, I swear to God-"

But then the door opens and Logan's getting wheeled in. His forehead wrapped in a silly white bandage and a brace on his left ankle. His eyes are slightly glazed from pain pills. "Ladies," he slurs with a wide grin.

Nadine doesn't have time for it, and starts immediately, "Logan we need to discuss-"

Veronica's on her feet in a split second, swiping at her tear stained face as she regards Logan's agent with nothing but contempt, "Oh no way."

Nadine turns towards her, teeth practically barred, she's in no mood to get sidelined by a young love angst session, "Excuse me?"

Veronica tilts her head, hanging onto her calm by a thread, "You know the drill, it's me first Nadine."

"You're not his girlfriend anymore Veronica," Nadine replies with a knowing smirk, expecting fireworks.

"No," Veronica snaps back without hesitation or aggression, "I'm the girl who was just in a Mexican standoff and I'm the former federal agent who lied to the cops. And I want to know why _now_."

She turns to him, daring him to tell her to leave. Her face is a mess, puffy and red. Her hair is pulled high into a sloppy ponytail and her bangs are slanted and haphazard. A grey pullover he recognizes as straight out of his closet has been thrown on over her pretty dress. He doesn't look away from her when he speaks, "Nadine, give us a few minutes."

* * *

><p><em>4:20 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

She pulls the file out of her purse and sets it on the table next to his bed. Her face is empty as he looks at her with a mix of surprise and amusement. He should have known. Should have realized she wouldn't wait for answers when she could just as easily steal them right out of his mouth.

"I stopped after the first page," she states evenly, relaxing back into her seat at his bedside, "Someone's blackmailing you. Why?"

He sits up even though his whole body protests and so does she. He throws his legs over the side of the bed, looking down at her with concern, "Trust me Veronica. Just this once. You don't want to know."

She leans forward, and grips his hand with both of her's, looking up at him from under her eyelashes, "_Trust me_, Logan. What does this man have on you?"

He winces, and finally spills, "What would I take a gun to the head for?" When she continues to stare at him blankly, he scoffs and his free hand flails as he gestures to her, "You. He has you."

She purses her lips, mind thrown into confusion. She'd expected as much with the reference to Leanne, but has no idea what relevance her past could have after all this time, "What about me?"

"Your mom," Logan replies with a bitter half smile, "in all her drunken adventures, was recently married to a washed up reporter. Daniel Jameson, otherwise known as the man with the gun. Apparently in their time together your mom told him the sordid details of her past. Including all the best parts regarding Jake Kane."

Veronica blinks. "So…" she prompts.

"_So," _Logan continues, "Danny Jameson was planning on writing a book. A total expose about your mom and Duncan's dad. And then about you and Duncan. About your relationship throughout high school, that continued despite the fact that the two of you might have been related."

She actually gets confused in her rush to get the words out, and they get jumbled together, "We aren't-we took a paternity test. Jake Kane is not my-"

"Your father is you father," Logan finishes with an eye roll, before his tone goes soft, "You don't have to explain it to me Veronica. I understand the deep dark family secrets no one wants to talk about. Especially you. About this."

"So what?" Veronica continues to question. Still completely confused, "Why am I not hearing about this in the news? How did you even get involved?"

"He called Dick for an interview," Logan answers as if it's that simple.

"_Dick_ knows?" Veronica chokes.

"Dick isn't going to say shit," Logan states loyally, elaborating, "He hung up on the guy and called me. And I was handling it-"

"Oh yeah it looked like it with the gun and all," Veronica snaps, she's beginning to cry again. Her mother, horrible as she is, is another one of her weak spots. A vulnerability she doesn't have to think about often. But this, this betrayal of humungous proportions, it's enough to steal her breath.

"That was Weevil's screw up not mine," Logan grits out, still more then a little pissed about how ridiculous this situation has gotten.

"What are you doing working with Weevil?" Veronica asks quickly, nodding towards the sizable file.

"I don't exactly have the resources to run a background check," Logan answers with a shrug, "The guy was blackmailing me, I was trying to find something on him. And when that didn't work…I was going to pay him off."

"Why didn't you tell my Dad? He could have helped," she whispers finally, tears beginning to weave down her cheeks and fall on her bare knees.

"Come on Veronica" Logan snorts, his voice low now as he watches her in confusion and sympathy, "Am I really going to tell Keith that his ex wife's ex husband is not only selling their marital secrets, but secrets about his daughter? That there might be a book coming out that says you could be Jake Kane's? I actually _like_ your Dad."

"God Logan," she murmurs, staring at his big hand caught between her two small ones, "After everything…why would you do this for me?"

To him the answer is obvious. Always has been. But she's always been too dense to notice, so he goes with an answer that makes him feel less like her bitch. The words come out wrong though, too tentative and breathy, "Living through it all once was enough. I don't want to do it again and you shouldn't have to either. Even at our very worst I could never do that to you."

He tilts up her chin, forces her to look at him. "Veronica," he pleads with a sad smile, "Could you please stop crying? Please?"

She wipes the tears from her face, glancing down for a split second. And then, taking a deep breath, she stands, face fathomless and eye still glittering. "I just…" she doesn't know what to say, to this insane man who is just so many things to her at once. Because she is broken but so is he, and there are only so many times she can overlook this kind of valiance. His willingness to save her even when he doesn't have to, when she's done nothing to earn it. There is only one option, she steps between his legs and wraps her arms around him tightly, her face falling on his shoulder.

"Veronica," he whispers into the mess of her dark hair, voice raw, threatening to crack if he can't keep it together. He wants badly to be stronger then this, to push her away and talk rationally for a little longer. Because there are so many things they need to say to each other. But after a moment his hands finds her hips and she is even closer.

She pulls her head back, looks him in the eye. And then she she lays a hand over his cheek, intending to kiss him quick. But of course his fingers catch in her hair, holding her in place. And it's drawn out, slow and painfully sweet. "Thank you," she whispers as she pulls away.

"Yeah," he replies dazedly, hands trailing down so his fingers can hitch around the hem of the pullover and keep her still, "You're welcome." And then they are entangled once again. Gratitude and guilt crashing together to perpetuate fifteen minutes of temporary insanity.

* * *

><p><em>4:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

"His house got broken into," Mac sputters into her cellphone, almost at a loss for words.

"Babe," Dick attempts to reason, "I'm just telling you so you don't totally freak when Veronica calls. She sounded like a crazy person when I talked to her and I didn't want you to be totally blindsided."

"I'm going to the hospital," Mac replies automatically, eyes already searching for a spot to turn around. Parker opens her mouth to protest but thinks better of it.

"No you're not," Dick argues, "You have an appointment to keep. I talked to Nadine, she and Veronica are keeping watch. That's all the visitors he needs right now."

Mac thinks it over for a second before coming up with another concern. "What about the house," she questions, "is it trashed?"

"No idea" Dick responds, "I called Maria though, his maid, she's driving over for clean up duty as we speak."

Mac's eyebrows furrow as she notices what might be a tinge of penance in his voice. "Okay, you're being too calm," she points out before continuing, "You're guilty. Do you know something?"

Dick sighs, not for the first time noticing the downside of being with a woman who can read him like an open book. "I _think_ I might know something," he hedges, not willing to lie, "But it's not for sure so we'll talk about it when you get home."

**I think this one deserves a review for obvious reasons. **


	11. Potential

**Thanks for all the feedback on the previous chapter. Loved it.**

**Chapter 11**

Potential

_5:00 pm Wednesday September 5_

Nadine talks for a very long time, voice low and bossy. Her eyebrows get higher and higher with every minute. Logan has been condemned to his hospital bed until the plastic surgeon can stitch up his forehead. But he refuses to lie alone. Veronica sits propped up next to him, falling asleep on his shoulder despite the fact that his hands are fidgeting at her waist and his mouth keeps coming down on the tip of her ear. She's not much better, as her fingers play with the buttons of his shirt and her legs curls around his. Her recent bout of hysterics has left her drained and if she's going to have to spend more time in a Neptune hospital she can't think of a more ideal situation then with her eyes closed next to Logan Echolls' warm body. She'll think about the consequences later. Possibly when she can stop picturing them each with bullet wounds.

Nadine is glowering at the both of them, since it's obvious neither is paying any sort of attention to her. "We're in a hospital not a hotel room you sluts," she eventually hisses, hands on her hips.

"Can we please talk about this later," Logan moans dramatically as Veronica's eyes droop again, "just text me your demands or something."

"I'm your agent not your abductor," Nadine snaps as she stands and smoothes out her Chanel skirt, her eyebrow kinks as she points this out reproachfully, "It's a little early to make those kind of jokes wouldn't you say?"

Nadine's constantly worried Logan's proclivity towards sarcasm and snarky comments will reflect poorly on him. He's brilliant when prepared, but stick a microphone in his face at the wrong moment and there's no telling what could come out. Which is why she emphasizes prepared statements and polite silence when faced with a barrage of paparazzi flashes. Veronica's an even looser cannon, and much worse at taking advice. She's good for a guilt trip though, when she's not being ragingly self righteous that is.

"It's never too early for jokes," Logan argues with a smirk and a wink as he adjusts in bed and takes a barely conscious Veronica with him. She makes a noise of protest but then wraps her arm loosely around his waist. Nadine's not sure what to make of it. Not three days ago she had been assured that this was impossible. That the two had no residual feelings after such a long separation. She'd know it was bullshit of course, but even she hadn't expected such a drastic turn around. Although she's sure the adrenaline of two near death experiences has something to do with it, she can't be positive it's something that won't stick. The difference between love and hate has always been so blurry in their relationship. So similar it's easy for either to turn on a dime.

"Just don't talk to the press," Nadine concludes, "I'll release a statement with your name on it. If you're going to leave together have Veronica get the car and pick you up in the back. And for God's sake be careful what you say in front of the staff. Nurses are easily bribed."

"Bye Nadine," Veronica mumbles with a lame wave. Eyes still closed.

"Goodbye children," Nadine grumbles as she exits the room. They can hear her heels clicking on the linoleum long on after she's gone. It takes her a minute, but amid the hustle and bustle of the hospital and the blaring inside her own head Veronica Mars manages to take her second nap in years. Nightmare free.

* * *

><p><em>6:00 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

She comes back into consciousness awhile after Nadine departs. Her whole face is pressed against Logan's shoulder, and a microscopic but mortifying pool of drool is left on the fabric on his shirt. She knows he's not asleep because he's messing with her hair, his head lulled against hers.

She pulls back to blink up at him with a drowsy smile, small and tentative. "Hello," she whispers.

"Hi," he replies with a twin grin as the hand that was in her hair moves to her face. He tilts her chin up and kisses her deeply, taking her completely off guard. Not in a bad way, she finds.

After a minute of complete abandon she pulls aways breathless. "Okay," she interrupts regretfully, "I have to turn my phone on now."

"No," he murmurs with a shake of his head. He smiles sweetly as he rolls on top of her and presses her into the bed, "You really don't."

"I really do," she groans frustratedly as his mouth and teeth find the crook of her neck, twitching as she manages to choke out, "We're lucky my dad hasn't kicked down the door of your room yet."

"I just got pistol whipped," he replies with amusement, hands finding the hem on her dress and the curve of her knee, "I think even Keith would cut me some slack."

She lets his hands and her mind wander for another split second before wriggling out of his grasp to come up for much needed air. The conversation she had with her father just last night ringing in her ears. Another lie she will have to force between them is coming. A story she'll make up in her head as another way to protect and herself. God, Leanne ruins everything. She kisses Logan's temple before replying in apology, "He won't cut _me_ any if I don't call and tell him I'm alive."

"Fine," Logan sighs in reply, smile still in place though, "Call like the wind. But I draw the line at letting you get out of bed."

She rolls her eyes and relaxes back next to him as she turns her phone on. A single missed call from Jackson, which she quickly scrolls away from. One for LM Duncan. Three from Mac. Two from Dick. And fifteen from Keith. "Shit," she curses in frustration as she immediately presses her father's speed dial number.

He answers on the first ring. "Hi Dad," she greets quietly, trying to sound fine. Whatever that means anymore.

"Veronica," he exhales, relief obvious. She closes her eyes, guilt nearly akin to agony. He doesn't deserve this, not even a little. Logan's hand finds her own in the bed and for the second time today, he squeezes. This time it doesn't make her feel better. "Please tell me you're with Logan and not in a ditch" Keith finishes.

"You know I'm okay Dad," Veronica points out, going for calm but coming off shaky, "Leo told you."

"No," Keith corrects, "Leo told me you wouldn't go in the ambulance with Logan, that you were practically hysterical, and that you drove off in some car on your way to God knows where."

"I'm in the hospital with Logan," she affirms, glancing at the wary brunette whose scrutinizing her like a puzzle, "I'm safe and he's sore. I'm sorry I didn't call you sooner. I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"Veronica," Keith begins carefully, "what happened in Logan's house?"

She bites her lip, hesitating for just a little too long before reciting the party line, "I have no idea. I just walked in on the whole thing." Even Logan winces at her terrible attempt at deception.

Keith lets out a breath slowly. "You're lying," he points out calmly.

"I know," Veronica replies with a sharp inhalation, running a shaky hand through her hair as she winces, "But just let me for a little longer. I really am sorry Dad. For all of it. I love you."

There's a long pause as Keith weighs his next move. He hesitates, deciding as long as she's safe he can handle a few more hours of suspense, "I love you too honey. Call me when he's discharged."

She flips the phone shut with closed eyes. Thinking about all the things she should have said. She wonders if she should just resign herself to this feeling. The horrible helplessness when she looks at the mess she's created of her one remaining familial relationship. If there's any way she can save it without being forced to expose all her mistakes. She relaxes against Logan when he pulls her towards him. He doesn't speak. And they stay that way until the doctor finds them.

* * *

><p><em>6:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

The hospital's premiere plastic surgeon does the stitches across Logan's forehead. Just along the top of his right eyebrow. They're impeccable. And she wonders how her own stitches cause her to resemble some sort of zombies while his make him look like a rugged hero. How can his stoic face and the thin black lines possibly make him even hotter? God, she shivers, she really is losing it. Thankfully he's a little too distracted to notice her practically drooling.

She's sitting in a chair across the table from him, watching as the needle dips into his flesh over and over. And when her phone buzzes against her leg and she answers reflexively. Mac's voice immediately fills her ear, doing her best to sound only slightly panicked, "How's our boy?"

"Currently taking stitches like a champ," Veronica observes as she watches him skeptically, "Although I suspect the bravado is for my benefit. Or possibly the surplus of attractive nurses that keep asking if he wants any ice chips." Logan makes a face at her, and she smiles back smugly.

Mac ignores the joke completely. "Dick told me not to worry," she blurts, before adding, "Should I be worried?"

"We might have to use his stunt double for wedding photos. But overall his pretty face should be back on the party circuit in a couple of months," Veronica summarizes, glossing over the statement's they'll have to give to the police and the man with the gun who is still at large. No need to add more things to Mac's rapidly growing list. Logan eyes her from where he's patiently sitting under the surgeon's careful gaze. He offers a weak smile which she returns immediately. She's not sure what's going on. This heady feeling that has replaced her defensiveness and guilt. All she knows is she's going to cling it for as long as she can. Try her best to handle the situation delicately before she ruins it with everything she still has to say to him.

"What is wrong with the people in my life?" Mac questions, and from her tone Veronica can almost hear her eyes rolling, "I _know_ all of you, I can figure out when you're not telling me something. You sound way too happy for this situation." Mac's already been through this once, and while she can't read Veronica as easily as her future husband, her best friend isn't really attempting subtlety at the moment."You know," she adds, "I spent basically my entire college career watching you smile at Logan like the two of you knew a secret, and I'm painfully aware that's _exactly_ what you're doing now."

The humor fades from Veronica's tone as she is once again reminded of all she has to atone for. And not just with her father. It's pretty much everyone at this point. A tricky tight rope she is constantly teetering on. Her voice is much more serious when she replies, "I'm sorry about this Mac. I really just want everything to go great for you."

"Bond," Mac replies with another near audible eye roll, "I knew you wouldn't come without your drama. You're my maid of honor because I love you. And I couldn't care less what happens between you and Logan as long as both of you end up standing next to me on Saturday."

Veronica's smile returns. "You're the best Q," she compliments in relief, adding gratefully, "And I can't wait to be your sidekick this weekend."

Veronica hangs up the phone after a quick goodbye and pushes her chair back so she can set her chin on the table. She slides her hand across the surface palm up, her eyebrow raising at Logan's locked jaw but perfectly calm face as the needle slides into his skin again. "How you doin' rock star?" she murmurs.

He laces their fingers together, forcing another smile she doesn't believe, "I'm fine. The topical drugs here are excellent."

"Excellent topical drugs," the cute plastic surgeon agrees as he continues his precise stitching.

"If you say so," Veronica answers quietly as she sets her chin on top of their interlaced fingers. She remembers her last stitches experience to be less then enjoyable. Although at the time she had been battered, scared, and at the tail end of a miscarriage. Given the circumstances she's sure what Logan's going through is slightly less traumatic. But she still thinks he's lying. There's not much she can do about it though. So she squeezes his hand. And he almost laughs.

* * *

><p><em>7:00 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

The plastic surgeon has just left when she realizes she's going to have to shatter this newfound peace. She appraises him from across the table, face losing warmth rapidly as she questions, "So what are we doing?"

His mind races at all the topics she could be referring to, "What do you mean?"

"Leo's going to be here soon," she points out, anxiety creeping into her body as she imagines them stumbling over words and details, "Or my Dad. Or someone else. What's the story Logan?"

He looks at her for a long time. This is a memory he'd rather leave in the past. Tense discussions about image, about the things she had to say to protect him, to make him look good. The things he had to do that she would hate, and that he would hate too. His voice is hollow and he can't look at her when he states, "A crazy guy broke into my house and pointed a gun at me. We struggled but then you came in and scared him off."

"They're going to want you to give a description," she points out.

"He was wearing a mask," he answers just as quickly.

Veronica leans back, pulling her hand away from his. He doesn't wince but he wants to. It hurts nearly as bad as the stitches, "And that's it?" she questions, frustration creeping in.

"Veronica," Logan starts, rubbing his forehead as he tries to diffuse the growing tension that has crept into the room, "there's a pretty big chance this guy's going to drop his manuscript after this afternoon. If he gets arrested it's going to gain even more attention."

"What if he comes back?" she volleys back like a pro, shifting from anger to concern. Imagining all the terrifying situations Logan could get himself into.

Logan snorts, "Jameson isn't a killer Veronica, he's a reporter. He was pissed this afternoon because he was supposed to get his money. However, my star employee Eli had an epiphany and decided to delay the transaction. Hence the gun wielding. He's not going to come back to finish the job." He can tell by her face that this is an unsatisfactory answer. That she's about to ask him how he can be sure. So he beats her to her punch, "And if he does I'll take care of it," he waves off.

She tries to keep from snorting herself, "Like you did this afternoon?" His face flashes annoyance and hurt, enough to make her back off ever so slightly. "How?" she questions in a softer tone.

"Nadine's been bugging me to hire security for forever," Logan responds simply, "Guess I'll have to cave." He's not going to tell her that after the break in gets published he would have had to cave anyway. If only to make sure no adoring fans tried to get face time in with him too.

"So you're getting a bodyguard?" she infers wryly, taking his compliance to the extreme as usual.

"No," he rolls his eyes, cracking his first smile since this conversation started, "not a bodyguard smart ass. People to watch my house."

She sighs, finding another hole in his plan almost immediately, "And what about when you're not at home?"

"I'll be fine," Logan huffs again.

"I don't believe you," she replies with fake sweetness.

"Well the tables have turned then," he hisses, "And I guess you're going have to trust me like you asked me to trust you the dozen times we had the private investigator fight."

"Please," she can't suppress her snort this time, "You may have said all the right things after those fights. But let's be honest and admit that after that first time you just started hiring better thugs to follow me around. Where was the trust then Mr. Martyr?" His mouth falls open at the accusation, but then quickly snaps shut. He wonders at the implications briefly. That she'd indulged his paranoia in order to give him piece of mind. That after freaking out she'd quietly allowed herself to be followed for the better part of four years in order to keep at least some of the peace in their relationship.

"They were good," Veronica says with almost no hint of annoyance, mostly just a mix of pride and amusement, "But I'm better."

He doesn't have the words to defend himself. His proposed strategy if he had gotten caught at the time would have been to start yelling. Which doesn't seem to be appropriate now. "Veronica-" he sputters

But none of that is her point, and she waves him away just like he did her, "It's the past Logan. And if I wasn't positive it was purely to ensure my safety we would have dealt with it then. Right now we need to talk about the future. And if I'm going to obstruct justice for you I need to know you're not going to wind up getting shot based on a problem that barely even involves you."

"Um there's no guarantee for that," he points out, "And even if I were to get a bodyguard, which you should know for me is filed under death comma fates worse then, it wouldn't put a bullet repellent force field around me. Come on Veronica, you saw the guy yourself, does he really look capable of picking me off with a sniper rifle or something?"

She looks at him like he's absolutely crazy, "The guy _broke into your house_ you arrogant jackass. Pointed a gun at your chest. It's obvious that you have absolutely no idea what he's capable of."

He pauses, and tries not to feel like he's caving when he adds, "Just give me a few days, I'm going to do damage control as soon as possible. Pay him an egregious amount of money and hopefully ensure we never have to talk about this again."

There's a knock on the door, but Logan doesn't look away even as Leo walks into the room. "Trust me," he mouthes.

Veronica turns to Leo, who knows he's missing something. A smile forms on her lips as she comes to her decision, "Hey there deputy. Long time no see."

* * *

><p><em>9:30 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

They walk into the house like wary soldiers after the war has ended. He's exhausted but trying not to show it, and has an arm wrapped tentatively around her waist. She's as raw as a rash and trying not to lean on anything that would hurt him. Her whole body on edge after all the prodding.

Their interview had been long and repetitive. They had refused to be separated when Leo had tried to relegate them to different rooms. And Leo's suspicion had grown with each question until Logan had pointedly asked if he needed a lawyer. Leo had rolled his eyes but backed off. Finally stating that he had no more questions and that officers would be positioned in front of Logan's house until further notice. And then they had finally left the hospital after what felt like an eternity.

He heads upstairs to assess how ridiculous he looks in his brace while she veers towards the kitchen to assess the damage done to the room. They are comfortable with one another, falling back into old habits, but it is no longer as frantic and intense as it was when they were alone at the hospital. Neither one quite knows what to do next. And both are too tired to initiate what would most likely be an awkward conversation about the state of their current relationship.

She called her dad while Logan had been completing his discharge papers. He had offered to help her avoid the paparazzi frenzy by picking her up at the hospital in Alicia's car. She shot him down immediately, she needed to make sure Logan got home safe. Phantom loyalty that has left her in the awkward position of wandering his unfamiliar house. Her father hadn't pressed about the details of the break in. He was good that way. She was preoccupied and he knew it, however that didn't stop him from saying 'we'll talk again soon' by way of a goodbye.

Veronica jolts when she enters the kitchen. Maria is icing a cake at the counter, looking much older then when she had last seen her. When Veronica and Logan had moved in together Nadine had insisted they hire outside help, persisting to such an obnoxious degree that Veronica had eventually relented. She had interviewed a slew of potential stalkers and opportunists until finally finding Maria. Nadine had wanted a service, one that sent a random and faceless girl every morning. Logan had been inclined to agree until Veronica pointed out that if someone was going to have access to her personnel items on a daily basis it wasn't going to be some stranger who she wasn't comfortable with. It was going to be Maria.

The Polish mother of two turns and regards her with an equal amount of surprise. "Veronica," she exclaims, excitedly crossing the room to wrap her thick arms around the tiny brunette. "Look how beautiful," the maid observes in a heavy European accent, "but still too thin."

"How are you 'Ria," Veronica replies softly, still wrapped in the woman's arms, "your letter are always too short."

"That's because I can't send all those pretty pictures like you do," Maria counters with a final squeeze before pushing the girl to arms length so she can scrutinize her further, warm smile still consistent, "I framed the one you took of the Statue of Liberty. You've always had such a gift sweetheart."

"It's just a hobby," Veronica shrugs. Maria had always made a big deal about her pictures, even the boring surveillance kind. When Veronica had moved away and she and Maria continued to communicate through letters she had found she had very little to say. Her life had grown considerably less interesting when she left Logan. And she couldn't exactly talk about work. So she had sent the woman pictures, tons of them over the years.

Veronica's eyes widen, "Is Logan making you work crazy hours to suit his schedule? Why in the world would he need you so late on a Wednesday?"

"Richard called me," Maria corrects. And Veronica wonders if Dick had filled Maria in on all the details of this afternoon. She guesses not. That would have been what they talked about first. "Such a sweet boy," Maria continues, "we talked about his fiance. The nice girl with the odd name."

"Mac," Veronica answers fondly.

"Yes," Maria nods, "The one that used to have all those silly streaks in her hair. She brings Logan all these deserts I have to throw out. He told me that there had been some sort of incident. That the kitchen needed my magic touch. So charming."

"Yes," Veronica agrees just a tad too kindly, "those are the first words I would use to describe Richard. So. Charming. But speaking of deserts 'Ria, what is that smell?"

"Red velvet cake with the cream cheese frosting," Maria turns towards the confection absentmindedly before winking back at Veronica, "Logan's favorite."

Veronica sighs at the thoughtfulness. It's why she always loved having Maria around, why Logan had taken to her almost immediately. After awhile she had become more then an employee, more then a friend. She was family. And in gratitude for all Logan had done for her, Maria took care of him like he was one of her own. "You're too good to us Maria," Veronica points out, "You always were."

Maria beams, meddling mother side showing ever so slightly as she dares to hope, "It's been a long time since you've used the word us. Logan too. But maybe now that you're back for the wedding..."

Veronica pauses, head racing. She knows exactly how dangerous the game she's playing is. But right now she has no idea what's going to happen from one moment to the next. And surprisingly it doesn't bother her as much as it should. She wraps Maria in another hug.

"Maybe," she whispers into her neck.

* * *

><p><em>9:45 pm Wednesday September 5<em>

Maria departs after a few more minutes of bending Veronica's ear about New York and her future in Neptune. Veronica sets a date to take the woman to lunch after the wedding and Maria leaves with another hug and a kiss on the cheek. Veronica wraps the cake in tinfoil and sets it in the fridge. She couldn't be less hungry.

When Logan doesn't come down she goes upstairs to find him, remembering from her past experience where his bedroom is located. She finds him in the marble bathroom attached to the master bed, leaning over the sink as he inspects his stitches. He's found his way out of his shirt, and there's a bruise forming across his shoulder blades and along his right ribs. She winces just looking at them.

She focuses on the stitches though. "You may have a scar," she whispers teasingly.

Something flashes as his eyes focus on her in the doorway. But it's gone too fast for her to analyze. "It'll match the ones on my back," he replies in a similarly low voice.

Her eyes snap to his face immediately. She knows each and every inch of his body by heart, has catalogued all of his imperfections to such an extent that she barely even notices them now. From the slender white lines made by a belt to the angry red spheres from what she shudderingly assumes are from lit cigars. They are faded and sparse but they exist. And every time she sees them she is reminded of how very fragile and flawed America's golden boy truly is.

"I'm sorry Logan," she murmurs, and the ache returns. The one where she would do anything to reach out and touch him. Where the space between them is almost more punishment then she can bare. She crosses the room, hopping up on the counter near him and pressing her back against the mirror, which spreads the length of the wall. They are close, but the hostility in his voice and eyes keeps her from reaching out.

"You said that already," he whispers, still looking straight ahead in the mirror but no longer focusing on his face. And she had, whispered it in the hospital room in between their first kisses in six years.

"I know," she answers back. But then she had been apologizing for her mother. For allowing her family to put him in such a horrible position. Now it is for more then that. It is for the shame she's felt ever since she got Logan's shirt off that very first time. She thought she was such a great detective. When really all the facts had been staring her in the face for the majority of her life. They've never talked about it, and she knows he's never even contemplated blaming her. But that doesn't stop her from blaming herself. "Logan-"

"Veronica," he muses, voice lighter as he finally allows himself to look at her. Legs curled into her chest, hair wild, and face conflicted. His battered fingers clutch the marble as he fights the urge to push those messy dark bangs out of her eyes.

"Why did you become an actor?" she blurts suddenly. She feels like an idiot immediately.

"What?" he blinks.

The truth is she has so many questions and answers pooling in her head. And too much time to think about them all. That's not what she wanted to say though. Not even close. "I just never asked before," she winces, "I was afraid of what the answer would be. You don't have to say anything. It's just one of the several things I was thinking about as I walked up your stairs."

He smiles, and it's only kind of a good thing, catching the hint he explains, "I was giving you an out if you were feeling the familiar urge to bolt."

"I need the gun remember," she points out. Remembering with a flash that she has to get her father's gun out of Logan's safe and return it to Keith's glove compartment. It's the first time she's thought about it in hours.

"You remember the code. Probably have it memorized," he replies with a raised eyebrow. Daring her to continue. To keep pretending.

"Do you want me to leave?" she asks, deflated. She should leave. If she had any sense of self-preservation she would. This is bound to blow up in both their faces.

He holds on for as long as he can, but the answer is familiar. The emotions as crystal clear as they were when he was seventeen. "When have I ever wanted you to leave Veronica?" he answers.

She tilts her head against the glass, and it makes her eyes easier to read. She's going to say something weird again. And he just does not have the energy to process his feelings about yet another Mars bombshell. But before he can stop her she's started. "I quit my job," she begins, "That's why I'm moving back. I quit my job because I…because-"

She's really going to say it. Not sure which explanation she's going to give. LM Duncan or Alex Corso. Maybe both. But he interrupts, sliding across the counter and stopping her short. He rest his chin on top of her bent knees, his hand coming to circle around her bare ankles, thumbs brushing against the dips and curves of her bones. Immediately every nerve ending in her body is standing at strict attention. While he's always had a way with words, Logan's a true master of action. And she's aware that the talking portion of the evening has drawn to a close. She staid. And they both know what it means.

"I wanna know," he breathes into the thin skin of her kneecaps, "I really do. But it been an _excruciating_ day." She's having a very hard time focusing, his hands are wandering again, moving from her ankles to her calves, sneaking under her dress and finding the sides of her thighs. Her eyes close, breath growing shallow as they move up, down, and across her skin, creating a maddeningly warm contrast to the cold marble underneath her and the glass pressed against her back.

"Veronica," he calls sweetly, and it is a physical chore but she manages to open her eyes to look at him. His smile has a bit of a triumphant edge, and she might be mad if it didn't feel so good. "Can we talk about this later?" he asks teasingly, hands finding her hips to drag her close. Her legs part around his waist and his hands release their grip in order to lay his palms flat on the marble on either side of her. It brings his face down so close their foreheads press together and she can feel his exhalations on her lips. It's his turn to close his eyes. To wait.

"Let's talk about it in the morning," she relents with whatever strength she has left.

**This took forever to write. Please review and tell me what you think. **


	12. Not Okay

**Chapter 12**

Not Okay

_10:00 am Thursday September 6_

She wakes up warm. She hadn't taken the time to notice during her previous foray into sleepovers with Logan, but the view from his bedroom is pretty spectacular. One walls is nearly completly glass, with double doors leading out onto a wide deck. The shot of the ocean is panoramic and almost blindingly bright. She buries her head deeper into the comforter in an effort to escape it. To hold onto sleep for a few moments longer.

She feels something hit the bed beside her, rustling the comforter. A moment later the blanket she's been clutching is pulled back. She tries not to wince when she sees Logan's face. The swelling around his stitches has receded considerably, but it has given way to a large purple and yellow bruise that overwhelms his entire right temple. She blinks up at him, focusing on his eyes instead of what lies directly above them. He smiles at her sweetly, laying a kiss on the left side of her forehead. "Come on sleepyhead," he murmurs dreamily, an edge of excitement creeping into his tone, "It's _finally_ time for the bachelor and bachelorette extravaganzas to begin."

"Oh God," she groans even as she cracks a grin, "Please tell me it's _not_ already Thursday."

"No can do," he replies as his head falls onto her pillow, leaving their faces only a few inches apart. His smile widens slightly as he adds sarcastically, "It's _finally_ time for this wedding thing to get interesting."

She squints as him, for the first time taking in his wet hair, robe, and the scent of chlorine clinging to his body. "Have you been swimming?" she questions skeptically.

"I tried swimming," he amends with a wince, "Apparently when doctors say don't exert your ankle, they actually mean it."

She bites back the urge to scold him. Logan is used to being able to play through the pain, always has been. If he'd stopped himself, whatever he felt was probably punishment enough. Instead she zeros in on his earlier statement, "I think our collection of injuries are all the more reason to reign in whatever outrageous plans you have for tonigh."

"Actually," Logan corrects with a waggle of his eyebrows, "we''ll be lifting off this afternoon."

"Lifting off?" She mumbles to herself, eyebrows knitting together as she tries to figure out where Logan could be taking them in a plane. When it hits her she sits up in a flash, remembering belatedly that she's completely naked, "No. You _can't_ mean-"

"Vegas baby," he finishes with flair, mischievously yanking the sheets away as she tries to pull them up over herself. Giving him a dirty look she shifts, laying back down on the bed now on her stomach. Vegas. What an asshole.

"So _that's_ why you highjacked my plans?" she hisses, "Because you knew I would have told you that you were insane right? And that was before we had two emergency room visits in three days."

He reaches across the space to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, arguing softly, "All the more reason to blow off a little steam before we're forced to put on formal wear and beam in front of the cameras."

"I don't want to blow off steam," she sighs, sneaking the blanket back over her face before finishing through it, "I want to stay in bed and sleep until we both no longer resemble the walking dead."

Logan looks fleetingly at the brace he'd begrudging put back on after his swimming attempt. He hesitates for just a split second before recommitting, "Strong argument. But we're going to Vegas. Which means you must return to the land of the living and gather the essentials from your Dad's. Who has by the way, been calling nonstop."

"Ugnh," she groans, still hidden from view even though the blanket thrashes as she readjusts yet again. Suddenly not able to get comfortable, her head starts to buzz, a now familiar feeling, "I believe he expects some sort of explanation."

"That makes two of us," Logan replies without losing his smile, it's more sly then upset. He's just looking to start the conversation.

Veronica pauses, but then the covers draw down and he can see her again. He might actually be getting used to the hair. Dark, long, and spread across his pillow. He can handle it like that. It's her facial expression that he currently has a problem with. Because when her eyes and mouth screw up like that he just _knows _he's going to hate whatever she has to say. And unlike her he can handle a few well kept secrets. At least for awhile. "Logan-" she begins. At a loss.

He knows better, and stops her by leaning over and kissing her quiet with a grin. "Nope," he explains, "I'm extending the pause request. We're going to have fun in Vegas. Lots of fun. We'll have plenty of time to piss each other off once we get back."

He goes in for another kiss and she responds by grabbing a fistful of his hair and relocating his face to a safer distance. "Pause request?" she questions incredulously, "So we're just not going to talk about anything?"

His smile gains an edge, "Not unless it involves gambling, strippers, booze, or a combination of all three." She releases her grip on his scalp and he responds by practically falling on top of her, eliciting an uncharacteristic shriek from the girl beneath him. "Oh also, you naked," he adds as he pulls back again to get a good look at her, "We should discuss that as much as possible."

Her eyes narrow theatrically as she replies, "Game on Echolls." She leverages herself up on her elbows so that she can get the first kiss this time.

She snorts as he exaggeratedly struggles to find the rest of her under the layers of tangled blankets. "I thought I had to get up," she teases, "We're burning daylight."

"I own the jet," he replies into the hollow of her throat, "We can afford to burn a little bit more."

* * *

><p><em>11:00 am Thursday September 6<em>

The clattering brings him into the kitchen. Veronica, in last nights dress and with her messy hair pulled up at the crown of her head, is banging through his cabinetry. He leans on the island and watches her back for a second before asking, "What are you searching for Nancy Drew?"

She looks over her shoulder frustratedly, "Which one of these confusing machines is your coffee maker?"

"I don't have a coffee maker," he answers nonchalantly as he bounces on the balls of his feet, "I gave it up years ago."

She spins around, gripping the counter behind her like she's about to fall over, "Logan. _No_," she exclaims, "How can you be a functioning adult without coffee?" Veronica had pretty much existed on coffee during her tenure as an agent, when working could mean at pretty much any hour of the day. Or all of them in a row until you collapsed.

Logan rolls his eyes at her. Forgetting that Veronica's body works like a machine no matter how she treats it. He lists his own strategies on his fingers, "I get enough sleep. And I don't treat my body like a garbage disposal," he nods towards the gleaming silver machine next to the sink, "Care for some tea?"

"_Tea?_" Veronica sorts, crossing her arms over her chest as she blinks at him with amusement, "God do you meditate and endorse acupuncture now? Am I going to find one of those sand and rock gardens in the family room?"

"It has less caffeine," Logan ignores her, starting another list, "it isn't as bad for your teeth, and it's much better for your body."

She closes his cabinet doors as he speaks, turning around at the end of his sermon to face him across the island. "I stopped listening after less caffeine," she surmises, laying her head on the granite top of the island she lets out a theatrical groan, "God I don't even think I'll survive the drive home."

He's just about to offer to give her a ride when his front door opens with a crash. Veronica shoots up with almost cat like reflexes. Her eyes jump to her purse across the room, where she had put her father's gun after taking it out of Logan's safe a few minutes ago.

A booming voice calls out, "Hey man you up yet? I'm dying to make jokes about your ankle brace."

"Easy trigger," Logan murmurs to her amusedly, catching her line of sight, "It's just Dick." He tries to evenly exhale the breath he doesn't want her to know he was holding.

The blonde appears a moment later in baggy shorts and gray thermal, fresh from a post workout shower. Veronica leans on her elbows, raising an eyebrow at his entrance, "God, barging in right after a home invasion. Your tact has sure developed in our time apart hasn't it Cassablancas?"

Dick, holding a paper tray filled with drinks, opens his mouth to comment. But then the gravity of the situation hits him. Logan doesn't have a shirt on and Veronica's sporting a wrinkled dress and some pretty obvious sex hair. "Oh God," his mouth falling open in horror as his head whips from one to the other, "No no no. _NO_." His gaze finally sticks on Logan as he bellows helplessly, "How could you let me walk into this?"

"Well," Logan replies, crossing the distance to grab what he's identified as his morning beverage of choice, "it would help if you learned to _knock_."

"Is that coffee?" Veronica perks up, darting around the counter to grab the biggest cup of whatever, it's hot and strong enough to jumpstart her heart. She smiles up at the disgruntled blonde as she swallows. "Wow," she begins, her tone puzzled, "I have literally never been happier to see you Dick. And this feeling of joy is _really_ unsettling."

Logan snorts, but Dick is beyond amusement. He takes in a deep breath in an effort to calm himself, managing to choke out, "You've taken my best friend. And now my latte. War Mars. This means war."

"Well as…fun as that sounds, I'm off to return a gun and pack the essentials," Veronica takes another sip of her coffee, before crossing the room to retrieve her purse. As she passes Logan he grabs her arm and kisses her a quick goodbye. She throws a hand over head as she starts down the hall, "See you boys later."

Dick still stands in the same spot, looking dazed. "I'm hyperventilating and nauseous at the same time," he points out to Logan, who is looking at him disgustedly. "I think I might pass out," Dick finishes.

"Would you calm down?" Logan asks, taking a few steps to grab the tray from his stunned best friend. "You're making me nervous," he adds as he sets the drinks on the counter.

"_I'm_ making _you_ nervous?" Dick repeats in outrage, "You're back with GI Jane and I have the problem? Not likely dude."

"Weren't you the one telling me to hear her out like yesterday?" Logan shrugs, opening his pantry in search of breakfast.

"I meant have a discussion," Dick exclaims, falling onto a barstool and sipping the drink he'd originally bought for Mac. It's some sort of iced chai thing that also includes something she refers to as 'bubbles'. One gulp is enough, he grimaces and sets the cup back in the tray. "Preferably across the room. In matching turtle necks," he adds.

"We discussed," Logan explains simply, finally going to the refrigerator to get eggs and instead finding a cake. He remembers Veronica mumbling something about Maria the night before. He hadn't been paying very close attention obviously. He pulls out the covered dish and cuts himself and Dick thick slices. Finishing his thought belatedly, "And then other things happened."

"See," Dick winces, throwing up a hand to cover his face, "lets just stop there man. This whole thing is just getting _way _too complicated. It's all too much. You love Veronica. I love you. Mac loves Veronica. I love Mac. If this continues I think I might actually begin to…I might have to luh-lov-" he finds himself actually choking on the word, so he ends his sentence in an even more complicated way, "Develop an affection for your mutual lady friend."

"She is pest like," Logan comments affectionately, as he takes the first bite of incredible cake, "Tough to get rid of. Grows on you fast."

"Like a disease," Dick points out.

"Yeah," Logan sighs, not taking it at all like Dick had intended.

"You're killing me," the blonde moans, wincing for what feels like the hundredth time.

"You'll forgive me soon," Logan replies cryptically.

And Dick, who had only barely remembered the day's date and all that it implied, immediately stiffens. All thoughts of Logan and Veronica leaving his mind as he cracks his first grin since leaving Mac this morning. It's bachelor party day.

* * *

><p><em>11:30 am Thursday September 6<em>

She sneaks into the house like the coward that she is. Slipping out of her sandals at the door and padding down the tile hallway silently. It's not that simple though. He is sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper for the second time. Waiting up on her. Just like he did last night, when she forgot to call him back.

She doesn't notice him in her journey to get to her bedroom. And she passes him, continuing down the hall until he sets down the paper and stops her in her tracks. "You didn't say you'd be sleeping over," he says to her back, and her whole body goes stiff.

She turns slowly, her bare feet squeaking on the tile as she twirls on her heels. Her expression is calm, but he is finally able to recognize the fault lines of deception, the pain obvious in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispers across the distance, metaphorical and physical, "I didn't think I would be."

"You've been sorry for a lot lately," he points out, trying not to sound as angry as he feels. When she was younger he had at least felt some sort of control over her life. He was her authority figure. She had to listen to him or there would be consequences. But now she is an adult. He'd blinked and missed it. She takes care of herself now. And the implication of that, that she can do it without him, that she doesn't need him, is the most awful thing he's ever felt. She is his one and only, and she has stopped needing him in her life but he will never be able to not need her.

He is acutely aware that she is in crisis. That something has gone very wrong in her life. He also knows that if he forces her to talk about it his version will be candy coated. Much sweeter then the bitter truth. He has no choice but to wait, and that is awful too.

But he can't stop himself from giving her the message, even though he doesn't understand its importance. He keeps eye contact the entire time, trying to read her nearly perfect poker face for tiny shifts, "A woman called this morning. She said her name was Lyssa Barnes and that you'd listed me as your emergency contact when you'd signed with her company. She said you haven't been answering her calls since you left New York and that she urgently needs to speak with you," he pauses, glancing down for a split second, "Is LM Duncan going to be another thing we can't talk about Veronica?"

For what feels like eternity his daughter stares at him, indecision obvious. There's a lie in her back pocket, there always is. But it's getting too hard. Making him feel like this has begun to cause her actual pain. So she does what she should have done as soon as she moved back into his house. She goes to her bedroom and pulls the stack of papers out from where she'd stashed them under all of her jeans. There are bound copies, thousands of them about to hit stores in a couple months, and only Wallace and Mac know.

She holds the pages close to her chest as she walks across the floor to her father. She takes a seat across the table from him and slides the papers towards him. "This is LM Duncan, Dad," she answers, jutting out her chin as she speaks, "I quit my job. I'm moving back. And this is what I do now. This is me."

He looks down at the stacks of pages and then back at her, forehead wrinkling, "I don't understand."

And she smiles, knowing he'd say that, "I'll explain it to you then."

* * *

><p><em>11:45 am Thursday September 6<em>

Weevil comes back from lunch to find Logan in his desk chair, feet propped up. He hasn't been there long, and he's leafing through his file. Veronica had totally forgotten about it and left it on his kitchen table when she left this morning. He'd decided to return it, since he had quite a few words to say to his rogue employee.

As the door opens Logan begins speaking, taking his feet off the desk and trading them for his elbow, resting his chin in the palm of his hand. "It would seem," he begins, "that you and I need to have a discussion about your job description."

"What the hell is it with you people?" Weevil hisses, rolling his eyes as he takes a seat on the wrong side of his own desk, "This my _office_. It's customary to wait outside until I actually say you can come the hell in."

"Oh don't worry, this won't take long," Logan smiles, "I mean you're obviously fired. I'll be handling the gun toting maniac solo from now on. And I'll also be keeping my file. Nice professional touch with the Asshole label by the way, I can tell you run a really tight ship."

Weevil ignores him, smiling to himself as he reveals, "The stuff I found on Daniel Jameson isn't in that file in case you were wondering."

"Have I not made it clear how much I don't give a fuck?" Logan exclaims with a shrug, as he stands, "Do you see my eye, my ankle, and the bruises strewn about my body? Congrats on getting me assaulted with a deadly weapon but I'd say your work here is done." He heads towards the office door, relieved to be done at least with this part of the mess.

"Are you sure?" Weevil smirks, swiveling in his chair to follow Logan's path out of the office, " It's pretty good. Even by your standards."

And despite everything, Logan catches himself in the doorway.

* * *

><p><em>11:45 am Thursday September 6<em>

"So they're back together," Dick says as he takes a seat across from Mac at their dining room table. She's sitting cross-legged as she messes with something on her computer. He hands her what he's taken to calling her 'shady coffee.' And she suppresses the urge to tell him he's been ordering her tea for the past six years.

"Please stop talking about this," she groans, putting her face in her hands before regaining her composure, "We're focusing on the vague text we just got from Logan now."

"'Pack overnight essentials. It's gonna be a bumpy ride'?" Dick repeats before concluding with a shrug, "The message speaks for itself."

"So," Mac's lips purse, "is the message telling me to dress casual or formal?"

Dick takes a few second, eyebrows knitting together, before he smiles. The phone in his office rings and he stands to answer it, "It's telling you to surprise us."

"And does the message tell us where we'll be going, where we'll be staying, or when we're leaving?" Mac continues.

"The message is saying more info to come," Dick infers, kissing the top of her head before heading down the hall.

She smiles and takes a sip from her tea, turning back to her computer as she murmurs to herself, "You're the worst."

* * *

><p><em>11:45 am Thursday September 6<em>

"So Vegas?" Piz contemplates as he falls on their hotel bed with a smile. They're just back from brunch at their favorite California diner.

"Yeah but keep it together," Parker replies as she kicks off her shoes and heads towards the bathroom, "we're not supposed to tell Dick or Mac."

"So we're flying on a private jet to Vegas, staying in something called a Sky Villa, just for one night?" Piz lists, his smile growing even wider.

"I believe the text was worded: 'If you remember what you did the morning after, I've failed'," Parker grins as she starts the shower and waits for the water to warm up.

"Have I mentioned lately that I love our friends?" Piz observes, "I mean in terms of lifestyles choices some of them leave a little to be desired, but when it comes to cool shit, they're making bank."

"Well if we're stuck with this ragtag group of recovering dumb asses we might as well get some perks," Parker smiles fondly as she crosses the room to grab her shampoo.

"You love them," Piz observes with a smile, one his favorite parts about his girlfriend is her unending sense of loyalty, "Even when you hate them."

She drops her dress, proving why her loyalty isn't his favorite thing about her, and heads back towards the shower, "God help me."

* * *

><p><em>11:45 am Thursday September 6<em>

"Does the man not realize we have children?" Jackie hisses as she folds a pair of Wallace's jeans and throws them into their suitcase.

"My mom already called babe," Wallace replies as he leans against the dresser and hands her a couple pairs of socks, " apparently Logan set it up with her weeks ago. We just have to drop Nay off on our way to the tarmac. She'll pick Ethan up after school."

"He'll have homework," Jackie points out, "Naomi and I have baby yoga at 5. We can't just drop everything."

"So what are you saying, you don't want to go?" Wallace sighs, rubbing his forehead. She hesitates, because sometimes she forgets, for all their responsibilities and commitments, they are still only twenty seven years old. Still young and full of potential to act like idiots. And sometimes her wonderful husband deserves to have a little fun.

"No," she sighs, smiling as she motions to their already half packed suitcase, "obviously we're going. Logan's just getting an earful on that plane ride."

He crosses the room, wrapping his arms around her as she makes him smile, "Sounds good."

* * *

><p><em>1:00 pm Thursday September 6<em>

The limo picks her up first, he's early but she's already waiting on her front porch. Essentials packed and gun returned, her bag waits with her on the steps. Her hair is still wet from her shower, and she's pulled on a pair of jeans tucked into boots and a ratty sweater. Her father had spent the whole time reading silently in the kitchen. The words excruciating did not even begin to describe it.

Logan gets out of the car and meets her as she's heading towards him, grabbing her bag with a smile. She stops though, waiting for him to notice. And he does, turning around as he finally takes a genuine look at her face, "What's wrong?"

She bites the corner of her lip, before crossing the few steps between them and wrapping her arms around his neck. "Nothing," she sighs, as he drops the bag and hugs her back, "Pause request, remember?"

"Are you sure," he questions when she still doesn't let go.

After another moment she finally pulls away, kissing him quick on the cheek and managing to summon a real smile, "Yes. Let's go have lots fun."

She heads for the limo and he, seeing no other option at the moment, follows her. "Okay," he decides.


	13. In Limbo

**I know its basically been forever. I'll try to be better I promise. **

**Chapter 13**

In Limbo

11:30 am Thursday September 6

_She's drumming her fingers against the table, still in last night's clothes. She just wants to curl up in a ball and fall asleep for a little while, catch her breath for half a second. But it's not going to happen, and she's got to make things right one broken piece at a time, "It all started about a year and a half ago," she pauses, blinking across the table at her father before she discloses, "We're about to drift into a touchy subject, and I'm assuming we're talking as father and daughter right now, not Sheriff and suspect?"_

_"Veronica," Keith sighs, fingering the thick collection of paper as he glares at his daughter, "please."_

_"Right, so Duncan and I," her father's reaction is palpable, he straightens and so does Veronica, pushing her back up as she folds her legs under her, clearing her voice to cover for the spasm of movement. All her words begin to run a bit together, "Duncan and I, we don't talk much. Given that he's still a wanted criminal and all. But every once and awhile, I get a letter with no return address. Always postmarked from some random South American country I'm sure he doesn't really live in. It has a few pictures of this pretty little girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes. She started out Faith, but now she's Lilly." _

_Veronica glances up through her lashes, sees that her father's expression has visibly softened, and continues in a little less of a rush, "And he writes me a letter. Not very long and with no personal details, once again because he's a wanted criminal and all. And every time, even though I have nowhere to send it, I write one back. Except last time."_

_She pauses again, pulling the first final copy of her soon to be officially published book across the table to look at it intently, "Last time, a year and a half ago, I wrote something completely different."_

* * *

><p><em>2:00 pm Thursday September 6<em>

She wakes up with a jolt. Finding herself curled up in one of the seats in the back of Logan's plane. The owner is next to her, leafing through a stack of magazine he's commandeered from a pissed off Parker. The two of them grace the covers of the majority, their pictures side by side. Some have used old photos, when she was still a blonde rocking sparkly dresses on red carpets. And others published current pictures, blurry ones with her brown hair pulled up. As a blonde she and Logan were always touching, hand in hand, an arm around a waist. As a brunette they are at least a foot apart at all times. He is currently reading an article that features a full page spread of her scaling his fence.

"I look like cat woman in that one," she murmurs through her half lidded eyes, adjusting so that her head falls on his shoulder.

A chunk of her hair falls across his mouth and he chokes on it when he inhales. He swats at the strand as she pulls back to see what's wrong with him. He pushes the loose pieces behind her ear and smiles ever so slightly. "You look like a spazz," he replies in a whisper before closing the magazine, "And that article, like all of the ones before it, is full of shit."

She pushes up the armrest that's between them and wriggles her way into his lap, "Why are you reading them anyway?" she questions as he wraps an arm around her waist and she rests her head in the crook of his neck. Trying to get as close as possible, to physically bridge the distance she feels in her heart, "What exactly did you expect?"

"Responsible journalism," he replies sarcastically as she grins, "or at least someone to stumble onto the truth."

She pulls away a few inches to look at him, smile still in place, "We don't even know what we're doing, so how could they guess?"

It was a joke, but he doesn't take it that way. Instead he turns to her, face completely straight as he answers, "I know exactly what I'm doing Veronica."

She thinks this might be one of the biggest reasons she fell in love with Logan in the first place. For years she thought he couldn't be serious for a second but now that she knows him better, she knows that his serious side can hit like lighting. Spark without warning and leave her breathless.

She blinks, several times. "Good," is the best she can come up with, and she says it quietly and without conviction. She's a few seconds away from propositioning him on a plane when they're showered with pretzel sticks from the row in front of them.

"Psst," Mac hisses over the top of her seat, sparkly pink sunglasses with penises bordering the lenses pulled over her eyes. A present from Logan upon boarding. "Stop hogging my M.O.H. Echolls," she whines, "I thought this trip was supposed to be boys vs. girls?"

Logan turns, smirking, to face Mac as he motions to Veronica who is currently sprawled across him, "It's not my fault she collapsed on me before take off."

Mac makes a face back, but along with the sunglasses she's also wrapped in a silver boa, making it hard to take her seriously, "Um, based on the PTSD my fiance returned home with this morning, I'd say you're more to blame more then anyone."

"Oh god," Wallace, the only guy still awake, groans from his seat across the plane. He's currently consumed with a game of brick breaker on his black berry. Jackie's spread across the row in front of him, completely unconscious.

Veronica sighs, stretching as she mumbles a dutiful but begrudging, "I'm coming, I'm coming."

She finally stands, straightening out her sweater before walking barefoot down aisle, leaning over Mac's seat she questions, "Think you can contain yourself for a few minutes while I use the bathroom Paris Hilton?"

"I suppose," Mac relents with a smile as she sips her mimosa. Dick is drooling on her shoulder, hair all in his eyes as he naps.

* * *

><p><em>2:10 Thursday September 6<em>

Veronica uses her precious alone time in the closet sized bathroom to make a few phone calls as she sits on top of the sink. Her foot is tapping against the metal cabinet, she's nervous. And she's also really mad.

"Hey Lyssa," she begins when the call goes straight to voicemail, "it's Veronica Mars. You know the woman whose identity it _was_ your job to protect? We need to have a serious talk about professionalism, and how who knows LM Duncan is my business and no one else's. My father," the words have become a single strain, and her voice is bordering on a whine. She winces as she realizes how hypocritically unprofessional she now sounds. She takes a deep breath and manages to take the quiver out of her voice, "Please call me back as soon as possible."

She then checks her voicemail, clicking on the message she'd avoided earlier this morning. Jackson starts with a characteristic deep breath. And she remembers a time when those pauses used to define her life. She would wake up to them, work with them, and kiss them good night everyday. The breath he took to clear his head, the two creamers in his coffee, and the way his head always tilted to the right when he smiled. Someone whose quirks she'd known like the back of her hand. But when it came down to it, Jackson had slipped out of her life like he had never been there in the first place.

He'd taken certain things about her at face value. She didn't like to talk about her past, or anything to do with her infamous high school years. Her romances with a missing billionaire and a Hollywood star were also off limits. He trusted her to save his life but had no idea what hers had once consisted of. When she was quiet he didn't question, didn't push. They lived their days together so he assumed her knew her. That it was that simple. The illusion had been shattered when she'd wound up splashed across pages sneaking out of her ex fiance's estate. When he finally figured out she wasn't quite as well adjusted and over her past as she had always seemed to him.

She leans the back of her head against the mirror behind her and listens. "Olsen moved into your office today. It feels weird to see someone else in there. Listen V, I know things got fucked up in the end. But I think you're making a mistake, you belong here. You're amazing at your job. You can start over. It can be better. Call me back. You know you want to."

When she started her job she hadn't even noticed Jackson until a few months in. He resembled Piz more then any of her other former boyfriends. And just like Piz she had fallen into a relationship with Jackson because it was easy. She excelled where other agents routinely failed. She was quick on her feet, had a tongue like a knife, and had one of the prettiest faces he'd seen in real life. He was impressed by her, impressed that he'd gotten her. And so he let her get away with things. And as horrible as it sounded most of the time she just didn't care enough to feel guilty.

She doesn't want to call back, but she does. Because she probably owes him that much. "Jackson," she sighs, I thought I'd made this clear. You need to stop." She considers hanging up, but after a moment of hesitation adds, "Please."

She hops off the counter and turns on herself in the mirror. She hasn't shed any tears, nothings red or swollen. Everything's hidden away perfectly. She takes a deep breath. And then a few more. Until it's been five minutes and she's finally ready to step outside.

But when she finally does she collides with the brick wall that is Wallace's chest. Looking ridiculously shady he ducks his head to hiss, "Can I come in?"

Her mouth falls open as she cracks a smile of confusion. "For _what_?" she replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

He rolls his eyes and walks into the bathroom without an invitation. He's a little bit of a mess, and for some reason has no idea what do with his hands. Veronica just watches him, amused smile on her face as he tries to pace in the minuscule bathroom. "So you and Logan talked?" he manages to finally spit out. "About everything?"

"Sure," Veronica nods, "we talked."

"About everything?" Wallace repeats, eyes narrowing.

She hesitates, calculates her options and decides for honesty. "No, Wallace," she answers simply, "not about everything."

Wallace nods like he knew it all along "Are you ever going to tell him?"

"About most of it? Yes. About the ba-" she winces, reaching up to mess with her hair to cover the slip, "about the other thing? I'm not sure."

"It's not your secret to keep Veronica," Wallace points out calmly. Reiterating a fact she has always known: she is an absolutely terrible person. She hadn't even known about the baby until it was gone but after she's aware she should have made at least one phone call to Logan. Should have told him then and definitely now. But she has all sorts of justifications, and those are so much easier to say then the words she should.

She juts her chin, displaying that jagged need to defend her actions even when she knows she's wrong. Logan's been hurt too many times. She thought she was going to die when she found out. He doesn't need one more thing to scar him for life, "Actually it is. And why _should_ I tell him? Knowing won't change anything Wallace, it'll just hurt him more then I already have."

Wallace doesn't hesitate at the argument, "You should tell him because he deserve to know Veronica. And if he finds out from someone else it'll be a fucking bomb."

"Whose gonna tell him?" she answers with a shrug, "You're the only one that knows in this time zone."

"This isn't good for anybody," he shoots back, still completely calm.

"I didn't tell you so you could guilt trip me Wallace," Veronica snaps, immediately regretting it.

"Why did you tell me then?" he sighs.

"Because you asked. And because sometimes I just need you on my side." She kisses him quick on the cheek before exiting the bathroom without saying goodbye.

She isn't sure if there is only person in the world for her. The concept of a soul mate has always been comical in her mind. She knows that when she left Logan the idea of her marrying her sometimes high school sweetheart had been overwhelming. There was so much left to do. But now she feels like she's done too much, and that her body and mind are beginning to show the strain. She's careening down a path she knows she can't sustain. She and Logan will have to talk at some point. And when she thinks about it she feels like she's going to choke.

He glances up as she walks down the aisle, winks, and then closes his eyes. It's terrifying how he can make her feel so on edge and so at home in the same second. She takes another deep breath, shakes it off, and falls into the seat next to Mac.

* * *

><p><em>4:00 pm Thursday September 6<em>

When they step off the plane Dick practically shrieks with joy. He picks his unsuspecting bride to be up by the waist and spins her around a few times before bear hugging a protesting Logan. Piz is pretty beside himself as well. Even Jackie cracks a smile.

Their hotel is absolutely ridiculous. Logan purchased two villas for the night, one for the boys and one for the girls, with four bedrooms apiece. They're right across the hall from one another, and as the bellboy puts their bags away Logan explains the rules.

"You each get twenty five grand spending money," Piz makes a choking noise in the back of his throat and Logan's positive he hears Veronica mutter something about him being an asshole, "to do with as you please. However, there is no saving your money. Lee, Piznarski looking at you two, this is not the downpayment to your Ford Focus or the furniture in your new walk up. This is crazy Vegas money that will be spent on gambling, booze, spa treatments, and or strippers. Male, female, no judgement here. We'll have dinner together and then it's gender segregation non optional. Ladies, I've developed a loose itinerary but you can feel free to deviate. Men, just hold on tight and enjoy the ride."

"Sooo break team I guess," Veronica concludes as Logan seems to be finished laying out his plan.

"Dinner's at 7, dress to impress," Logan adds before turning to the brunette leaning against the wall next to him, "Veronica, private conversation in my room? We've gotta go over some logistics for tonight."

"Oh god Logan," Parker groans with an accompanied eye roll, "just ask her what color panties she's wearing would you? We all know those are the only _logistics_ you're concerned with."

"Is elective surgery an option for the Vegas money?" Wallace questions, "There has got to be some procedure that will take away my 'gift' of hearing." He only gets to say half of the last part, as Logan and Veronica are already slamming his bedroom door. And then Jackie has him by the wrist and he's being dragged into her side of the hotel. Listening to her laugh as she tries to undo the buttons on his shirt.

Piz, whose seated on the couch with Parker's legs over his lap, tilts his head towards her, "Logistics?"

"Pass," she replies with a smile, "Pre dinner couples massage with crazy money?"

Piz contemplates the idea for a few seconds before shrugging, "I'm on board."

At the same time Mac is heading towards the balcony doors when Dick grabs her around the waist, "Where are you going?"

"Um," she murmurs as she turns her head to whisper in his ear, "I'm ninety percent positive there are Jacuzzis on both of our balconies. I don't know what you're doing, but in less then five minutes I will be sitting in a hot tub."

* * *

><p><em>6:45 pm Thursday September 6<em>

Veronica's just put the finishing touches on her hair, the dark curls falling perfectly down her shoulders. She's wearing an off the shoulder blue dress that's almost the same color as her eyes. She'd bought it on her last day in New York on a whim. And it looks even better then she expected.

There's a knock at the door. Mac's in red with lipstick to match, her hair pulled up into a perfect twist. She's gnawing on the corner of her mouth almost exactly like she used to during finals weeks. She glances behind her, where down the hall Parker's pulling on her hot pink slip dress. "Can I come in for a second?" she murmurs.

Mac's face is panicked, and immediately Veronica jumps to the worst possible conclusion. She has no idea how she's supposed to talk a bride with cold feet into staying with her groom when she couldn't even do that for herself. She steps aside to let Mac by, "Yeah sure, what's up?"

Mac leans against the counter for second before beginning. "My moth- my birth mother- Madison's-"

Finally Veronica connects the dots, and rushes to supply Mac with a label. "Mrs. Sinclair," she chokes out.

"Mrs. Sinclair," Mac repeats with a nod, "she called me this afternoon while I was packing. She asked, God I think she might have been crying, she asked if she could come to the wedding."

"Oh no," Veronica's eyes widen considerably and she has to stop herself from covering her mouth with her hand, "Mac I'm so sorry. Does Dick know, I mean did you tell him about the Madison situation?"

"He knows. There's pretty much nothing about me Dick doesn't know by now. I haven't told him about the phone cal though," Mac confides, eyes staring down at the tile floor, "He's so excited about tonight, and Logan's gone through all this trouble, I don't want to ruin it for them. Besides, we already had the whole nightmare of whether or not we were going to invite his horrible parents. I don't want to make this his problem when it's really mine."

Veronica takes a second before she comes up with the most important question, "Do you even want her to come?"

"Yes. No," Mac winces before turning to face her best friend, "My parents, my real parents, they know what she looks like. They don't know I know, but they would if they saw her at the wedding. Because they know sure as hell know I fucking _hate _Madison. I don't want them to think that it changes anything. That i love them any less at all."

"Mac you know that's not what they'd think," Veronica argues, "This whole situation, it's confusing. They'd understand."

Mac sighs, a bittersweet smile breaking through her confusion, "I have no idea what to do about all this. None at all. Gotta love Neptune though don't you? Ten years later, still feels exactly like high school."

The two girls look glumly across the room from each other until Veronica reaches across the small space and grabs Mac's left hand. "Not exactly like high school," she points out as she traces Mac's cushion cut diamond with her thumb. "You're still getting married on Saturday, no matter whose there. You're happier now, as loathe as I am to admit Dick's responsibility for it."

"What about you Veronica? Are you happier now I mean?" Mac juts her chin out as she stares at her friend, "I love you and I love Logan, and I think I would actually have some sort of fangirl induced fit if the two of you got back together for real. But after the attack, and with the book coming up you should make sure you're ready. Like a hundred percent, forever ready. He has been for like a decade."

Veronica is still fascinated with Mac's ring, tilting it so it catches the light, "I'm getting there."

* * *

><p><em>6:55 pm Thursday September 6<em>

A few minutes later after Mac's touched up her makeup and Veronica's pinned her hair into submission the doorbell rings. It's Logan, looking insanely hot in a suit. Veronica smiles, "Hello there."

"Hey," he smiles, kissing her quick as he wraps an arm around her waist, "You look great. Where are the rest of my ladies?"

Veronica shoots a look over her shoulder, where the chaotic noises of women getting ready is still audible, "They'll be out soon. Wanna tell me what's on the 'loose' agenda for tonight?" she questions, air quotes and all.

Logan smirks, spinning her around so he can back her up against the hotel room door, "Well my plans are on a strictly need to know basis. And you don't. Just make sure you guys are back in this room by two in the morning."

One hand is gripping her hip and the other is tilting her chin so he can study her neck. She's concentrating though, and manages to snark back, "If the stripper is a cop who says there's a noise complaint my mocking of your cheesiness will be eternal."

"Picking out a male stripper for your best friend's fiance isn't the easiest thing I've ever done, but I'm pretty certain I did Mac proud. Whether he's a cop or not will just have to be a surprise," Logan replies with total confidence.

"I just can't wait," Veronica laughs as her hands run down his shoulders, she contemplates the fabric as he contemplates the curve of her jaw, "You know, you don't clean up so bad yourself."

"That's what they tell me," Logan drawls, finally finding the spot that makes her hiss.

There's a door slam behind them, and is soon followed by a harsh scoff, "What is _wrong_ with you two? We're about to eat dinner, so you could please stop gnawing on each other?"

Veronica beams over Logan's shoulder, "Love you too Parker."

"Yeah sure," Parker replies with an eye roll as she crosses the room. Logan plants a kiss on Veronica's cheek before heading to the bar to pour himself a drink. Parker places herself in front of Veronica, "Step aside Mars, gotta give my man his jacket."

As Parker exits Jackie and Mac appear. Mac smiles at her maid of honor, "Ready?"

"Ready," Veronica nods.

Logan throws an arm around the future bride's shoulders, leading her to the door, "Lets get this party started."


	14. Nirvana

**Another chapter should be up in a day or two. I originally wrote them as one but it got _way_ too long. Sorry for the random flashback in the middle, sometimes I can't help but indulge myself.**

**Chapter 14**

Nirvana

_10:30 pm Thursday September 6_

She drinks too much at dinner. And then when they break off from the boys to change and then go to a night club down the strip she gets absolutely laughing drunk on the expensive champagne she pays for by the bottle with Logan's money. Mac, whose in a thin tiara and sash, is probably a little more sober but having way more fun dancing on a table with Parker while Jackie snaps obligatory pictures.

When Parker breaks a heel they stumble down the block to a row of high end boutiques and get distracted, deciding to spend a little time drunk shopping. Mac tries on a feathery flapper dress and suggests getting married in it while Jackie purchases a floor length designer gown worth a fourth of her crazy Vegas money. Parker weeps when her credit card goes through for a patent leather Prada purse and a pair of Louboutin pumps. Veronica switches shirts in the middle of the store, hoping no one manages to capture the moment on film. The cashier dutifully removes the security tag from between her breasts when she checks out an hour later.

After spending the majority of their money on extravagant liquor and clothes they come to the consensus that a cab would be a better idea then crawling back to the hotel. Somehow they manage to cram themselves and all their purchases into two cars. Parker is drooling, out cold with her head stuck in a shopping bag. Mac, who Veronica has long known is a very hyper drunk, rallies her with a few pinches in the hip.

By now the paparazzi are camped out in front of the hotel, and the whole place explodes when the cabs roll up. Parker, whose quick fingers are already pulling a compact out of her purse, is muttering a string of expletives as their car is mobbed. Bellboys rush both vehicles and Veronica, most sober of the four, emerges to direct them. Half of the boys play defense while the others unpack the car holding all the purchases.

People are screaming things at her, but Veronica is a master at tuning them out. She turns, grabs Mac's hand and helps her on wobbly feet out of the cab. Mac's got her phallic shades pushed high on her nose and is nothing but smiles. Jackie and Parker are less self assured, but Jackie knows the drill and is all class as she puts on a demure smile even as she stumbles in her heels. The top Veronica bought at the boutique is made of nothing but white sequins and it reflects the flashes like a sparkler. She's dying to do some damage to the closest camera. But she smiles and stays quiet. She learned a long time ago that anything else would get her in trouble.

_She's stretched across the couch with her laptop resting on her stomach. He said he'd be back at the hotel at 5 but she's been waiting forty five minutes now. Bare feet digging nervously into the expensive upholstery as she worries and misses. He's been home for just two weeks now after wrapping his first feature film. He spent the first sixteen weeks shooting in LA and then the next month jetting across the globe for locations._

_He'd called every day. Mostly in the middle of the night. And on one long weekend she'd flown to Paris to spend exactly fifty-three hours in a hotel bed and bar with him. For half a year he'd been exhausted and preoccupied and bordering on snippy. And then the minute he got home he'd basically forced her into a car and they spent a much more lucid weekend in Santa Monica. And somehow it had taken exactly two days to forgive him for everything. He basically turned falling in love into an art form. And she fell for it hook, line, and sinker._

_He walks in the door exactly an hour late, looking deep, dark eye circle tired. He's holding a rolled up magazine in his right hand and she remembers belatedly that he had been at a meeting with Nadine. She closes the laptop and sits up, running a hand through the blunted edges of the hair that she's recently cut to just under her chin. "What did we do now?" she sighs._

_He opens his mouth but thinks better of it. Instead he throws the magazine on the coffee table, shrugs out of his jacket, and flops onto the couch next to her, his head landing in her lap. "It doesn't matter," he replies._

_His hair is getting shaggy, and she runs her fingers through the pieces that fall in his eyes. She tilts her head to the side as she answers quietly, "It does to you, so it does to me. Tell me what's wrong."_

_He sighs, takes one of the hands playing with her hair and kisses the inside of her wrist before sitting up, "I'm gonna take a shower. Do you want to go to dinner?" He stands and walks towards the bathroom before he remembers the magazine sitting in front of Veronica. He wants to go back, but he's sure that would do more harm then good. She'd probably fight him for it._

_"As long as we go somewhere I can wear jeans and eat noodles smothered in heavy sauce," she mumbles to his retreating back. Waiting until he is just out of sigh to lunge across the couch to get to the coffee table. Flipping pages until she gets to what she's sure is the cause of Logan's headache. The headline reads: Logan Echolls' Girl A Real Class Act. It's a collection of pictures of her flipping off photographers at various locations on the Hearst campus. Most of the times she's at a table alone, pouring over textbooks. Occasionally she's walking with Mac and Parker. In one she has her arms wrapped around Logan and she's giving them the finger behind his back. The pictures are collage style and spread across two pages. She feels painfully sick to her stomach and in the silence of the living room makes an audible choking noise._

_She crosses the room and enters the bathroom after a few minutes. Logan's shrugging out of his shirt, shower already beginning to steam behind him. She leans in the doorway, "So Nadine's in the parking garage cutting my brakes as we speak?"_

_Logan turns to face her, trying to gage the damage in the angles of her face, "No she's pissed at me. She says I should have laid down ground rules." He winces as her mouth falls open, "Her words not mine."_

_"You're mad at me," she points out. It's not a question._

_"No," he shakes his head, walking towards her until he can catch his fingers in her belt loops, "Not at all. This is my fault. I made a choice and everything changed. How you react to it isn't up to me."_

_She leans her head just under his chin. She had once been in the car when Logan threatened to run over a photographer if he didn't get out of the way. But this last year, once he realized what exactly it was he wanted to do, he's changed. He's not exactly flashing smiles, but he's not openly hostile anymore either, "How do you _do_ it?"_

_"I don't," he shrugs, before thinking better of it, "Or I didn't. You just have to remember that this is exactly what they want. A full page spread dedicated to making you look bad. Controversy sells babe, and you're making it too easy for them."_

_She groans, "People I know are going to see this."_

_It breaks the moment, and he smiles into her hair, "It's not that bad. I laughed." She snorts, and is about to say something sarcastic before he uses the leverage he has on her jeans to try and drag her into the shower with him._

They make it into the hotel unscathed. Mac insists on trying her hand at roulette, at which she is terrible. "Wait no," she insists when Veronica tries to drag her away, turning to reveal an greenish complexion. She takes a deep breath to try and steady herself before admitting, "Veronica something's wrong."

Her eyes are unfocused and Veronica tries to remember how many shots of vodka Mac took in the limo. At least five. Plus all the glasses of champagne. Parker is distracted by black jack and Jackie is like a zombie at the slot machine, so Veronica grabs Mac's wrist and drags her into the nearest ladies room solo.

Mac is still giggly, and she heads straight for the handicapped stall to take a seat next to the toilet. She smiles up as Veronica slides down the stall wall across from her, "I don't think I'm going to throw up."

Veronica smirks, crossing her legs as she leans against the cold marble partition, "Well I'm positive they'd ask us to leave the casino if you puked on the roulette wheel, so lets hang out here for a few more minutes. "

Mac runs her hand through her hair, taking in Veronica's dark jeans tucked into black boots, and the glittering top she'd purchased what seemed like five seconds ago. Her hair is a mess of curls, her lips a flushed shade of red. There's still a bruise around her temple, but it's mostly hidden by her makeup. Mac sighs, it's like she doesn't even have to try "You look really pretty."

Mac's in a green silk blouse and a perilously tight pencil skirt and Veronica tilts her head at the observation, replying back sweetly, "So do you Mrs. Casablancas."

"Not yet," Mac replies in a sing songey falsetto, she pauses before staring at her best friend with hooded eyelids, the grin still not gone from her face, "You still hate him don't you?"

"No," Veronica argues with a sloppy shake of her head, "I think he really love you. And that's all I care about." It's true. She may not think Dick deserves Mac, but she can't deny that he has consistently made her best friend happy for a long time. That the life the two have created together is something Veronica actually envies.

"Do you remember what you said when he first asked me out?" Mac whispers, nausea completely gone. She tucks her legs underneath her and leans back against the wall, remembering life as it was seven years ago.

Veronica snorts, "Well I remember laughing. A lot."

"You told me guys like Dick didn't date anyone. That he didn't know how and didn't want to learn." Mac recollects, reciting the word clinically and without any sort of annoyance. At the time it had been good advice. She couldn't rewrite the past, Dick had been a different person before her. Someone she might have even hated at certain points in her life. So much had changed. And she like to think the man she loves had been there all along, just waiting for someone to find him.

"That sounds smart," Veronica nods, sliding down the stall wall until her head hits the cold tile of the floor. She is suddenly so tired, "Definitely something I would say."

Mac crawls over, lying down so they are shoulder to shoulder. There is an intricate gold pattern on the ceiling, all swirls and loops, "I kept expecting for the other shoe to drop. For him to do something horrible and hurt me, but it hasn't happened yet."

"Well he did work pretty hard for that first date," Veronica recalls, "A whole year of being obsessed with you while you were with Max. Didn't he send you flowers every day for a month?" Veronica remember stumbling across more then a few over the top bouquets set in front of their door that year. Different colors and types every day. Their apartment had smelled like a funeral home, but Mac refused to throw any of them out until the last petal had fallen from the stem. She should have known it had really only been a matter of time.

"Two." Mac corrects. She shifts, adjusting the tiara slightly on her head so the prongs stop digging into her skull; her sash is sporting a few stains from the club. "You know I fell in love with him on our first date? He took me to dinner, and he was so nervous and it was awkward and I was planning on giving him the just friends speech. But then he took me to the beach, and we just sat there and talked. About our lives, our parents, mostly about Cassidy. He just, he makes me feel like I could tell him anything," Veronica glances over, wondering how they can look at the same guy and see two different people. She'd never even think of talking to Dick like a confidant. Mac adds after a moment, "I'd never felt anything like it before. The way he looks at me, the way he treats me. I didn't know it was possible to be happy like this."

"I knew you were done for the day you agreed to get up at six on Saturday to go surfing," Veronica notes. She had looked ridiculous is her wet suit, but Dick had been so excited he'd carried her out of the apartment over his shoulder. She'd come back with sunburn on her shoulders and a smile on her face.

"That's another thing, he makes all the things I used to hate fun. He dropped me off that night, and I could tell he wanted to kiss me. But he was trying to play it off like a gentleman, and he was walking to the car and I called him name, walked over and kissed him. And I just knew." Mac shakes her head. She'd had every intention of letting Dick down easy when they'd left that night. But somehow in the span of three hours he'd managed to worm his way into her heart. And she'd yet to figure out how to get rid of him.

"That simple?" Veronica asks.

"Wasn't it for you?" Mac replies, head tilting to the side to get a better look at her friend.

"With Duncan, yes," she agrees, before her eyes squint, "With Logan, I don't know. It feels like I've fallen in love with him so many times over the years. It's gotten hard to keep track. But I think I remember the moment, even though I didn't realize it at the time." She might have talked about it, even though she's never told anyone else. She's drunk and nostalgic, and her heads been filled with nothing but Logan for days.

But Parker burst in, pushing open the stall door and wrinkling her nose, "You guys realize this is a public restroom floor you're laying on right?" When Veronica and Mac don't respond she crossed her arms over her chest, "Logan texted, apparently we have to get back to the room ASAP."

Veronica pulls out her phone, she has six missed calls, three snarky texts, and it's half passed two. "Fuck," she curses, belatedly remembering the strippers, "he's gonna kill me." She stumbles to a standing position, and it takes both her and Parker but the eventually manage to get Mac vertical as well.

The foursome laugh in the elevator, but when the doors open on their floor everyone goes immediately silent. Waiting at the door is a trio of buff gods dressed as computer nerds. Parker barely manages to get the camera out as the boys grab Mac by the wrist and drag her into the room. "In case I forget," Mac murmurs as they approach, "tell Logan he's my hero."

* * *

><p><em>5:00 am Friday September 7<em>

He makes it back into the room as the sun is breaking over the horizon, so drunk he can barely see straight. Piz and Wallace are nowhere to be found, but he wrangles an incoherent Dick onto the couch. He approaches the bedroom door to find a white sequin top dangling from the doorknob.

He'd thought with the prices he was paying for the fucking suite a little bit of security would be appropriate. But over the years he'd learned what lengths girls would go to get in front of him. He opens the door prepared to discuss trading an autograph for putting some clothes on.

But he's pleasantly surprised; Veronica is facedown on top of his bed in nothing but a pair of jeans and a lace bra. She has a silver tiara tangled up in her hair, and eyeliner smudged across half of her face. She looks up at him groggily as he approaches the bed.

"Worst proposition ever," he slurs as he flops down next to her on the bed. He's still got her top in his hand and he studies it, the expensive fabric and the minuscule, tightly sewn on sequins. He wishes he'd gotten a chance to see her after dinner, "But since you started off strong I'll make an exception."

"I'm also covered in male stripper," she groans as she drags herself across the few inches of space to lay her heavy head on his chest, "Still interested?"

"You're really drunk," he points out, breaking into a grin.

"So are you," Veronica argues, picking up her head to show him her insulted face.

"Yeah but I'm better at it," he smirks in reply.

"Did Serenity and Venus treat you right tonight?" she quips back, her eyebrow quirking.

He adjusts, sinking lower on the bed and pulling her up so her head rests just under his chin, "Dick didn't want any strippers so we just played poker in a VIP room."

"Wait a second," Veronica shakes her head, "Are you telling me that _Richard Casablancas_, the man who used to have entire conversations with me without taking his eyes of my chest, didn't want strippers at his bachelor party?"

"People change Veronica," Logan observes, his fingers attempting to dislodge the cracking tiara from her long hair.

"Maybe," she whispers in reply. She knows its true. She's laying her head on top of the evidence, she just never thought it would happen to everyone she knows. Especially when it feels like she is still exactly the same.

The smile drops from Logan's face, but his tone doesn't grow annoyed, it drops to a whisper, the words coming out slow, "You really don't get it do you? Dick has never loved or been loved like he has with Mac. His parents couldn't have given less of his shit and his brother took a swan dive off the side of a building. She doesn't care about his car, or his house, or how big his trust fund is. She redefined him. And he doesn't plan on going back. Or fucking it up in any way."

She takes a minute to process his words, because she knows at some this stopped being about their friends. This about them. And the heartbreakingly sweet way his fingers are weaving through her hair. "She got a stripper," Veronica observes, trying to break the mood she's inspired in him.

It works, his straight face breaks into another grin of amusement, "He doesn't care."

She keeps looking at him, face dazed and dress shirt completely rumpled. The stiches on his forehead are covered by his messy hair, his knuckles are scabbed over, and the brace seems to be helping his ankle a ton. She catalogues his injuries and it adds to the knot in her stomach. She can feel the alcohol buzzing in her head, but she lets the declaration slip out despite all the reasons she shouldn't, "I love you too."

His hands go still, "What?"

She doesn't blink, "I love you too. Still."

"You're drunk." he notes, fingers regaining feeling as he frees the last piece of the crown from her hair.

She leans forward, catching him off guard with a kiss that lasts only a heartbeat. "I mean it," she promises, and lays her head back on top of him.

He goes quiet for a long time, allowing himself to contemplate all of the ways he can react to this. Since no matter how hard he tries she seems to be able to read him like her favorite book, he goes for aloof. Well as aloof as he can possibly towards the girl he may or may not love undyingly. He shifts again, turning so that they face each other on their sides. She's smiling at him, this silly drunk smile he's only seen a few times. He closes his eyes, "Go to sleep."


	15. Aftershocks

**Hope you enjoy the fluff because we're about to hit some major angst in the chapters to come!**

**Chapter 15**

Aftershocks

_8:00 am Friday September 7_

"Oh god I'm dying."

She rockets from the bed with surprising agility and is in the bathroom in the time it takes for him to blink, slamming the door in a way that makes his head hum in an extremely atrocious way. He follows her. It almost kills him but he does. Stumbles into the bathroom just as she's flushing the toilet and wiping her mouth with what he's sure is tearfully expensive hand towel.

"Yes please just stare at me," she groans, leaning her back the wall as she tries to catch her breath, "like this isn't traumatizing enough without you witnessing it." Her legs are pulled into her chest, dark hair falling across her sick, pale face. It's not her finest moment.

He doesn't reply. He actually might still be a little drunk, he just hands her a glass of water and goes into the closet for a robe since she is still wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a bra. She's pulling herself up when he wraps the robe over her shoulders. She has an elastic and she uses it to pull the messy strands up on the crown of her head. "I would kiss you but it would be gross," she remarks with a halfhearted grin.

He rolls his eyes, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek, "I have to go check and make sure Dick's still alive. I'm ordering a bunch of food, do you want anything specific?"

"Just the classics," she replies, tying the robe around her waist and then once again taking a seat next to the toilet. The tile is freezing, but she prefers to be cold rather then overheating back in bed.

"Caffeine and carbs?" he presumes with a nod, "Got it." He heads for the door to go make sure his idiot best friend is still where he left him.

"I still mean it," she calls as he exits the bathroom and enters the bedroom, "I remember it and I still mean it."

He stops short, taking a deep breath before turning around. This is one of his problems with Veronica; she has the emotional maturity of a teenage boy. And she would much rather speak in generalizations then lay her cards on the table. He leans his back against the doorway, "Then say it."

She blinks, resting her head on her knees, as she looks him in the eye. She smiles, "I love you."

"I love you too," he replies quickly, but the grin he breaks into is bittersweet, "But if it was that simple we would have gotten married at eighteen."

She's not done, and even if it physically hurts she's getting at least some of it out, "I quit my job because I burned out. And because I wrote a book. But I'm moving back home because I missed you. And my dad. And my life." He blinks this time, trying to figure out everything she's just told him in a little more then twenty words. She watches his blank face for any signs of life; he's usually so expressive. She sighs; she might actually be able to handle this truth thing. Her body feels lighter then it has in years, "So, there it is."

They're interrupted by knocking coming from the hotel room door. Veronica winces and gets up to follow Logan as he goes to see what the disturbance is. Dick has hobbled over to the door, looking terrible. He opens it and moans out, "I will give you all of the money I have if you just fucking stop. And dude, I have an absolute shit load of money."

Logan makes it to the door and opens it wider, revealing a security guard flanked by a dreadfully hung over Piz and Wallace. He crosses his arms over his chest, "These men were found passed out by the indoor pool. They claim to belong to you."

"Hold on just one second," Veronica answers with a hasty grin, reaching into Logan's wrinkled dress pants to grab his cellphone. She snaps a quick picture of the scene before nodding seriously, "Yes, we accept your strays."

"Man," Dick mumbles at Wallace as he heads back towards the couch, "I'm your agent. We're supposed to be better then this."

Wallace ignores him, turning towards Veronica, "Where's my wife?"

Veronica leans against Logan, who wraps an arm around her waist in order to keep her wobbly knees steady. "All the ladies are tucked away safe," she answers as she rests her head on his chest, "The bitchy maid of honor took care of them I promise."

Piz is completely out of it, "I forgot which bed is mine. Just point me in a direction." Logan indicates behind him and both Wallace and Piz stagger in the general direction.

Logan's about to lead Veronica back to bed when there is yet another knock at the door. "Oh god make it stop," Dick begins to tearlessly weep into his pillow. Veronica grabs the door handle to reveal Mac in sweats, her hair pulled back with a thick fabric headband. Her nose is red and her face is pale. "Is my groom still alive?" she mumbles.

"Over here babe," Dick calls, sitting up as she falls against him, "How can you be this cute hung over?" He runs his fingers through the ends of her hair as he throws his arm around her shoulder.

"Dude I said yes," Mac replies dryly, pulling up the hood of her sweatshirt to block out the sun, "you're marrying me. We can be done with the pretense that I'm pretty all the time. Just let me lay my head in your lap; it's all I need right now."

Veronica pulls away from Logan. She's reconsidered, there's too much in her head to deal with at the moment without piling on. She needs at least one more hour of sleep and something in her stomach before she can sort this out with him. The lightness in her body has been replaced by a heavy need to recuperate if only for a little while, "I'm going to lay back down, please stick the coffee under my nose when it arrives."

"We still have to talk about all your weird shit," he calls to her retreating back, smirking. They have time. She's moving back home and they have time.

"Later," she snaps, glancing at him over her shoulder, "I changed my mind I'm too hung over to deal with this pre breakfast. Wake me with food and maybe you'll get lucky."

"Crazy and food addicted," Dick observes as Mac relaxes against him and stretches out across the blissfully comfortable couch, "that's the winning combination most guys pine over their whole lives."

"I'd hit you," his soon to be wife comments, "but it would hurt me more."

"I'll stop," he apologizes, using his fingers to pull the stray hair out of her face, "Try to fall back asleep."

* * *

><p><em>10:30 am Friday September 7<em>

They manage to get their shit together eventually. Parker stumbles in and then a bedraggled Jackie. Everybody falls back asleep after devouring room service but they decide to reconvene for lunch before taking off in Logan's jet. As Mac keeps muttering from the couch, they all have a rehearsal dinner to attend tonight.

Logan forces himself to roll out of bed a half an hour early, and once again attempts a workout in the pool. It goes better today but his ankle is still sore when he makes it back up to the room. Veronica is moaning, curled up in bed with a pillow over her face to block out the sun.

"You really are better at this aren't you?" she observes, peaking out from under her hiding place to note his wet hair and goofy grin. She should yell at him for putting so much stress on his ankle, but he's stubborn as fuck and she knows it wouldn't stop him for a second.

"I always thought it was cute that you were a bad drunk. It's probably one of the few areas where I excel and you decline," he replies. He's had much more practice then she has. Falling onto the opposite side of the bed he questions innocuously, "What's your book about?"

"A girl who solves mysteries," Veronica answers quietly.

"Seriously?" Logan remarks at the irony, "I almost got shot trying to stop a book about you from being published, and now you're doing it on your own?"

"I didn't write it," she corrects, "LM Duncan did."

"LM? And that stands for…" He thinks it over, and she's about to tell him when he gets it right on his own, "Lilly and Meg, ah how charmingly morbid of you."

Veronica rolls over to face him, "She writes the books. I just cash her checks."

"Books?" his eyebrows raise.

"They want me to make it a series," she retorts, "I'm currently undecided." Especially since Lissa Barnes is currently avoiding her call.

"You're an author," he whispers. Something forming in the pit of his stomach, it just may be that he's proud of her. Only Veronica could find a job that actually allows her to have a secret identity, "Your write books."

"And you're an actor," she mimics his bemused expression, "we're just changing everyday aren't we?"

"Not the important things," he replies, finally turning to look into her eyes. She's smiling and so is he. She's not working for the FBI anymore, she writes books, which means she can work from anywhere, be with anyone.

"Nope, not the important things," she agrees, finally sitting up, "But you have to get dressed and so do I." She leans over to kiss him goodbye before making her way back to her side of the hotel floor. Collapsing on her own bed as she tries to decide what outfit won't make her head explode.

* * *

><p><em>10:45 am Friday September 7<em>

When Dick wakes up alone, he finally decides to mobilize. Going on a search for his missing fiancée seems like a constructive use of his time. He hears her before he opens her bedroom door, the quiet sniffles he's only heard a few times during their relationship.

He enters the room, "Mac?" She's already dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. She's facing away from him, but he sees her stiffen, her arms moving to swipe at her face before she turns to face him.

"Oh, hey honey," she smiles, her eyes are red, "Sorry I'm just having a thing."

He sits on the bed, looking at her curiously, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lies, heading towards the mirror to throw on some makeup to hide the splotches on her face, "I'm fine."

As soon as she gets close he grabs her and pulls her into his lap, "Oops sorry, judges aren't buying it. We're gonna need some more info."

"It's not a big deal I promise," she replies, running her hand through his hair gently, "Lets just go to lunch and pretend this never happened."

Dick's face screws up, his smile falling as he shakes his head, "Nope, I pass on the Logan and Veronica strategy. It's not going to work for them and it's definitely not going to work for me. There's not a chance I can just forget I saw you crying. Or that you apologized for it you psycho." He takes a deep breath, "Talk to me."

She sighs, getting distracted by how sweet he is, "I love you so much."

"Okay you're starting to freak me out now," He replies, "You didn't accidentally marry a stripper last night did you? Because, baby, I've been there, but I'm only cool with it if it's a chick."

She rolls her eyes, remembering very clearly his beautiful ex wife, "No, this isn't about anything that happened last night. It's about me and my crazy family drama."

It's his turn to roll his eyes at her, "Yes, because we definitely don't have that in common. So what's up? Does your little brother still want to have the ushers wear themed suits so people can pick them out in the crowd?"

"What? No Ryan's over the red tux idea. Now he wants nametags. But it's not that." She winces, deciding to just come clean. He's right; they're no Logan and Veronica. She couldn't keep a secret from him if her life depended on it, "Mrs. Sinclair wants to come to our wedding."

"Madison's parents?" Dick squints, "Wait you're saying your birth parents want to crash the nuptials?"

"Maybe just her," Mac corrects. She hadn't asked if Mr. Sinclair had any desire to see her. If he even knew Mrs. Sinclair was asking. It really didn't matter, "I don't know what her husband thinks."

"Well who cares?" Dick questions, "Who gives a fuck what he thinks?" The very idea of those rich idiots making her cry makes his fists clench. He knew Madison's parents, her dorky little sister, and they were reasonably nice people. Nice people who had raised an absolute monster of a daughter. He liked them, but they didn't get to ask his fiancée for a life shattering invitation two days before her wedding.

She sighs, and asks the question she sometimes has to with her husband to be, "What do you mean?"

He pulls her close, kissing her on the forehead and resting his chin on top of her head, "I mean exactly what you told me when my absentee mother wanted an invite, it doesn't matter what anybody else wants. This is our wedding. We get to decide. So I've decided that this is your decision and I support you in your choice."

She smirks; she'd said the equivalent to him when his mother had called. His decision. Her decision. What the hell did she know what she wanted? She takes a deep breath, "So helpful." They're getting married tomorrow. She can handle this.

She allows herself a few more seconds before untangling his arms from around her and heading to the bathroom to do her makeup. Giving him a quick kiss before she walks out. "Love you," he murmurs, before falling back against her bed to wait for her.

* * *

><p><em>10:45 am Friday September 7<em>

Parker and Piz are able to make nothing but groaning noises from their respective sides of the bed until Jackie makes so much noise they're forced to abandon their ultra comfortable mattress. She's already in heels and a pair of slacks, and Parker hates her just a little bit as she crawls to her suitcase. At least she has Wallace to slow her down, he's popping aspirin like they're candy and sulking on the couch in jeans and a faded T-shirt.

"We're never drinking again," she moans as she digs through her suitcase trying to find something acceptable to wear. Somehow she doesn't think her current outfit of her boyfriend's boxer shorts and a sports bra are going to be acceptable in their five star hotel dining room.

"Aren't those always your famous last words?" Piz replies with a smile. In their circle of friends in Chicago Parker is notorious for her Friday night escapades.

"Well I like a few Cosmos after work," she comments with a shake of her head, "It's fine."

"When have you ever drank a Cosmo in your life?" Piz squints. Parker likes shots. But he knew her problem with clubs. She held onto his hand tight, but he knew the drill by now. He compensated for the insecurity, he staid by her side, kept her in his line of sight always. And he knew it was one of the reasons she loved him.

"Fine," she corrects with a wink, "Cosmo is code for Jagerbomb, it just makes me sound more ladylike."

"We just have to get through lunch and then we can sleep on the plane," Piz remarks. It's consolation; he could go for some food. And he could definitely fall asleep again stretched out across the leather seats in Logan's plane.

"Okay," Parker finally decides, managing to pull herself up from the floor using the shiny wooden dresser, I'm gonna go sit in the shower, knock on the door when we're leaving." She's about to enter the bathroom when she whirls, "Oh hey I went to check on you last night, where were you?"

"Yeah, Wallace and I, we kind of broke off from the group." He winces; to be honest he barely remembers dinner. And even that's fuzzy around the edges.

Parker stiffens, eyebrows knitting together, "What does that mean?"

Piz sighs, his head is ringing and the light dripping through the tops of the pulled curtains is nearly blinding, "Can we talk about it later?"

"Just, where did you wake up?" She insists, arms coming to cross over her chest.

"In a pool lobby. Next to Wallace," he scowls as he finally understands where her head is at, pointing out, "You do realize the guys didn't get strippers?"

"Oh," a smile forms on her face as she runs a hand through her hair, completely relaxed now, "Okay, I'm going to shower."

"That's nice," he smirks at her reaction, yelling after her as she closes the bathroom door, "Real nice Lee."

* * *

><p><em>11:30 am Friday September 7<em>

They look like complete assholes at lunch. Parker can barely keep her head off the table and Piz is eating like he's never seen food before. Logan, who's in an incredible mood, is completely ashamed of all them. Jackie, who for reasons that have been splashed across many newspaper headlines, has a much higher tolerance for alcohol then any normal person and is the only one who looks even slightly presentable.

After downing two cups of coffee and something called triple chocolate chip pancakes Veronica is passed out on his shoulder. He has no idea how she's still alive with that kind of diet, let alone retaining her fucking banging body. He's not complaining though, especially because the hand she's using to leverage her body is remarkably high on his thigh. She stills wears the same perfume, and it reminds him of beaches and the backseat of his car.

He corals his troops into the limo and then onto the waiting plane. He suggests raiding the minibar and actually gets booed by his guests. Veronica is still sleeping, this time literally curled into his lap. She just complained because he keeps shifting and trying to tap his foot. He doesn't know what else to do so he rests his head on top of hers and tries to fall asleep. He can feel her heartbeat against his shoulder. Sitting still might not be so bad.


	16. Rushing Up

**Yet another chapter I had to cut in half because of my indulgence of a Mac and Dick flashback. I love this one though. **

**Chapter 16**

Rushing Up

_"I can't do it," she hisses, knees actually beginning to shake as she looks over the edge bridge. It had looked like such a manageable height only yesterday. She could close her eyes for the drop, he would be with her the whole time, "I can't. This was a terrible present, we're both going to die."_

_"No," he disagrees with a quick shake of his head as the director does a final check of their harnessing, "this was a fucking wicked present. And we're going to be fine."_

_He is twenty-seven today. And she is an idiot for thinking this would be fun for anyone but him. The wind rushes through her hair as the director nods and motions for them to step onto the platform. Her hands are quivering, and she can feel her heart throbbing against her rib cage. He looks down at her, making a visible effort to hide his obvious excitement, he reaches out to squeeze her hand, "We don't have to."_

_The option is so tempting. They could go to dinner and a movie like a normal couple. She knows he would let her get away with it, but she also knows she would regret it. She's yet to be disappointed by any of the risks she's taken for him, from surfing to rock climbing she's loved them all. The world is so much different when she sees it from his perspective. She can find a million different possibilities in technology. He walks outside and sees nothing but opportunity. She used to think it made them incompatible, but now she sees it as a perfect balance. _

_She shakes her head, swallowing hard and using his shoulder to pull herself up and onto the platform. He smiles and a moment later they are together again. She wraps her arms tight around his shoulders as his snake around her waist. She buries her face in his chest, releasing a shaky sigh, "Don't let go."_

_He shakes his head, kissing her forehead. "Not a chance," he whispers to her as the harness that will keep them together is snapped into place, "I promise."_

_They're once again given the all clear, and his grip tightens in an attempt to calm her shaking, "Hey, really quick," he begins, beaming as she unclenches her eyes to blink up at him, "I was gonna wait until dinner but this seems like the cooler moment." He clears his throat but that's the only indication he's anything but confident. She'll always remember the color of his eyes right then, the exact shade of a Robin's egg. The sun is setting behind him, and it makes the brightest pieces of his blonde hair glow like a halo. She is standing on the edge of a bridge with nothing holding her there but his arms and a few straps, but she has never felt safer, not with that smile and those eyes tethering her to the Earth, "Mac Mackenzie, you're the best person I've ever met and I love you like fucking crazy. Will you marry me?"_

_Her mouth falls open as he winks. And she should expect it but when he catapults them off the side of the bridge without another word she is totally stunned. She lets out an ear piercing scream and will say later it was because she was trying to deafen him as payback. For the longest moment her body is at a total free fall, all she can do is fist her hands in his shirt and hold on for dear life. She's never felt anything like it, but she bets it's the closest she'll ever come to flying. He doesn't let go._

_His head just grazes the river and when the bungee cord snaps she is splashed with the water. Goosebumps break out against her bare arms as they swing upside down just above the water. The motorboat idles nearby waiting for them. They swing back a forth like a pendulum for a couple minutes before stabilizing. She can barely register that his fingers are beginning to undo their harnessing. She doesn't have to look up to know how big his grin will be. _

_"That was incredible," she murmurs mostly to herself, trying to memorize the sensation so she'll never forget. So she can tell the story to the children and grandchildren she is now positive they are going to have. She pulls as far away as she can given the circumstances, quirking an eyebrow, "Impulse or real question?"_

_"The ring's in the car," he grins, slightly out of breath as he twists around, trying to undo the straps binding their ankles, "Think you can handle me for the rest of your life?"_

_She lets go of him, regaining blood flow in her fingers as she stretches her arms and dips her hands into the sun warmed river water. There is no one else in the world that could have talked her into spending her Saturday morning this way, "I think I could manage it."_

_He tells her to take a deep breath, and she inhales as he undoes the last strap and they both plunge into the water. She comes up gasping, his hair is getting shaggy again and falls in his eyes as he treads water. He looks at her expectantly, "So we're getting married?"_

_"I mean I haven't seen the ring yet," she shrugs, making him laugh at loud. But a beat later all the humor is gone from her expression, and she's not sure if she can blame the water for the way her eye's shimmer, "But yes, we're getting married."_

* * *

><p><em>3:00 pm Friday September 7<em>

The sun is hot against her back as she presses the Sinclair's doorbell. She can already feel her face flushing and her tongue growing thick in her mouth. Dick made her practice in the car, knowing full well her tendency to get tongue tied under pressure. She can command a board room like a pro, but a personal problem of this magnitude will make her stutter like a complete idiot.

An older man answers the door, he's graying around the temples and his lips are set in what seems to be a permanent frown. He's wearing a suit and she's grateful she took the time after landing to stop home and change out of her jeans. She now wears dark slacks and a coral colored sweater, her hair is pulled back into a tight pony tail. She smiles nervously, holding out her hand, "Hello, I'm Mac Mackenzie." His face flickers ever so slightly at the name, but he shakes her hand firmly and without hesitation, "I'm looking for Mrs. Sinclair."

He blinks several times, eyes traveling up and down her body as if he is trying to scrutinize every detail. It's an awkward pause, but finally he nods and disappears. She glances anxiously over her shoulder, not really seeing Dick waiting in the car but taking comfort in that fact that he's there. Mrs. Sinclair appears in a rush, looking completely flustered. It's jarring to see the expression she sometimes catches herself making in someone else's face. They stand there starring at each other for too long, Mrs. Sinclair wringing her hands while Mac fidgets with her engagement ring.

She takes a deep breath, strength coming to her in a wave. Tomorrow is her day, her decision. It is whatever she wants it to be. "I am so sorry," she begins, body going soft as Mrs. Sinclair's face falls immediately, "In a perfect world you would have raised me, and I would love you. But that didn't happen. I have a mother. And as much as I would like for you to be there too, this day is about her. It's about the father who raised me taking my arm and walking me down the aisle. It's about my mom waiting next to my husband to help give me away." When she was younger she'd written off all of the stupid traditions at a weeding. Promised herself that she wouldn't indulge them for a second, that she'd get married barefoot in an empty courtroom. But that was before she realized the day wasn't just about her. She smiles sheepishly, and she can feel the tears just begging to seep from the corners of her eyes, "I don't actually believe in any of that, but they do, they've looked forward to it their whole lives. And I can't take that away from them. I can't ruin it or taint those moments. I just, I love them too much."

Mrs. Sinclair juts out her chin, nodding slowly, "I-I understand."

"I'm sorry," she repeats with a sigh, "I wish- I wish things were different." She's not sure if she does, if the Sinclair's nice house and obscene level of disposable income is worth what it's done to their family. She can't be certain that if she'd grown up with them she wouldn't have ended up exactly like Madison, currently going through her second divorce and recovering from a Valium addiction.

In fact, in this moment she is absolutely positive she wouldn't trade her unrefined parents or annoying younger brother for the world. They hadn't been able to afford a string quartet to play for her on her birthday, but they had taught her to be strong, to work hard, and to never give up on her dreams. Her mom had cried when she graduated college, her dad when her company was featured in Time magazine. A year and a half ago she had bought them a house right on the ocean, and her mom had called her to inform her that all their plates fit into one cabinet in the new kitchen. Her dad had been against the move in the beginning, until she'd sat him down and told him that for the last twenty six years he'd taken care of her, and now it was her turn to return the favor.

Mrs. Sinclair had given birth to her, but she didn't know Mac's favorite color, the kind of tea to make her when she was sick, or that she liked nothing more then to have her hair stroked when she was sad. Mr. Sinclair hadn't spent hours teaching her how to ride a bike or danced with her feet on top of his at weddings. They hadn't loved her when she was cruel, when she was annoying, or when she was ungrateful. When she was three years old the Mackenzie's had decided that blood didn't matter, that she was theirs despite her DNA. And she had made the same choice today. Maybe the Sinclair's had created her, and maybe that even made them her parents, but it definitely didn't make them her mom and dad.

Mrs. Sinclair reaches out, squeezing Mac's arm gently, "It's okay. I shouldn't have- this is just hard, you know? It's so hard." She looks down, managing to somehow summon a smile, "Don't think of this tomorrow, okay? Don't let me ruin a single second of your day."

She feels them now, the tears slipping hot down her cheeks. "Thank you," she replies. Her whole body is screaming, she wants out of this moment. Wants it to be over and done so she can get back to her actual life.

Mrs. Sinclair squeezes one more time before letting go of Mac's arm and taking a step back into the house, "Congratulations honey."

She walks down the path slowly, keeping her gaze trained on the ground. She hears the car door open though, and when she reaches the three steps that lead to the sidewalk she manages to look up. He is at the bottom, wearing the expression he always does when he doesn't know quite what to say. Her whole face crumples and everything else falls apart. Instead of walking down the steps she just leans forward and lets him catch her. He wraps her in a bear hug, her head buried in his neck and her feet off the ground.

It takes awhile for her to get back under control, his fingers are running through her hair and he's whispering absolute nonsense into her ear. It would make her laugh if she wasn't so exhausted. He sets her down when she asks, and she wipes a self-conscious arm across her swollen face. "Shit," she curses, rolling her eyes at herself, "I should have just texted her or something. We have so many other things to take care of today."

"Stop it," he commands, tucking a piece of damp hair behind her ear, "Logan and Veronica are at the restaurant probably having sex in the bathroom." She lets out a shocked scoff and he grins at the reaction, "And after they'll make sure everything's perfect. We're in this together remember? Isn't that supposed to be the point?"

"I think so," she replies with the faintest of smiles, already beginning to feel better, "But then again, I've never been married before."

His mouth falls open slightly at the dig, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Solid burn future wife," he nods in approval. Throwing an arm over her shoulder he steers her towards the car, "Are you gonna be okay?"

She tilts her head, "That depends, do you still wanna marry me?"

He spins her so her back is pressed against the passenger door, "Would you buy it if I said I've actually never wanted anything more?"

She beams, "God you're so mushy this week. I love it."

"I love you," he replies, leaning forward to his forehead against her own. With a soft exhale he closes his eyes. He'd sound like a major pussy if he admitted it out loud, but he could spend years exactly like this.

"See now, that's definitely the point," she decides, leaning forward to kiss him hard and quick before squirming out of his grasp and heading to driver's side, "Come on, let's go pretend to get married."

* * *

><p><em>3:30 Friday September 7<em>

"Are the roses supposed to go on the inside or the outside?" Logan calls across the room as Veronica is scrutinizing the last side of the tent, making sure every piece of black and white fabric is correctly arranged, and that every strand of twinkle lights are wrapped securely and light perfectly.

The weather is cooperating, thanks God, and Mac's colors work gorgeously. The tent is draped in black and white, and the whole ceiling looks like it's lit by fireflies. The tablecloth's are all crimson with tall bouquets of red roses and white calla lilies, candles in a million different silver holders will be lit just before guests begin to arrive.

She looks up at him, "They're supposed to be mixed. Everything's got to be even."

He scrutinizes the bouquet again, eyebrows knitting together. She smiles, offering with a slight challenge in her tone, "Do you need me to come over and help you?"

He rolls his eyes, "No I think I've got it. Isn't this all fake anyway? I've never understood why people have to _practice _getting married."

She plugs in the last strand of lights. Good, every bulb is working. After turning them off she once again turns to face him, "It's for us, so we can go over following distance and smiles and everything.""

"And everything?" He raises his eyebrows, giving up on trying to figure out the bouquet and focusing on her, "I'm pretty sure I know how to walk down an aisle." He pauses and she can see the joke in his eyes before he lets it slip out of his mouth, "Now if I could only figure out how to get you down one."

She crosses her arms over her chest but doesn't look away. She's not going to blink first that's for sure. The room has completely melted away. She has two choices: handle this delicately or blow everything to hell, "Well I'll be walking down one in less then three hours. Pay close attention."

"Not what I'm talking about," he replies calmly.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" she tilts her head, heart jumping into her throat at the words. She knows he's not, but it doesn't stop her from wanting it to happen. If she could rewind her life she would, erase all of the parts she regrets and do them over. Make it all better. She would take him with her to New York, would have lived the last five years together. She would have married him.

He smirks, running a nervous hand through his hair. He's never quite sure how she's going to react to what he says, it's his favorite thing about her. But sometimes it's also a real pain in the ass, "Pretty sure I already did. I vaguely remember you being there."

She sighs, and crosses the distance between them until there is almost none. Squinting up at him she replies, "I hate when you talk just to hear your own voice. Just tell me what you're getting at Logan."

"I'm pressing play. I love you, you love me, but it's your move Mars. Last time I proposed and you walked out. This time you get to decide what we're doing." He smiles, bittersweet but with touches of hope at the corner. They're not teenagers anymore, and if this is going to work they're both going to have to get better at acting like adults. As expected she looks completely terrified. It doesn't matter, he was planning on giving her time to think anyway. He's got places to be, "I promised to help Dick move all of his wedding stuff into the hotel rooms. Think about it Veronica." He leans forward, kisses her quick on the forehead and heads off towards his car.

She wants to call out, wants to tell him exactly what she wants right now so it can just be over with. But her heart is thundering and her breath is short, and so she just watches his back retreat. They have time, so she's not sure why it all suddenly seems so desperate.


	17. Positive

**Sorry this took forever. I know I'm the worst. **

**Chapter 17**

Positive

_4:15 pm Friday September 7 _

The screen door slams behind her as she enters her father's home. Darrell is playing something violent on Xbox that involves explosives. He waves as she and her duffel bag skulk across the living room. She has exactly half an hour to change and pack her things for the overnight at the hotel. She and Mac will be sharing a room a floor above Logan and Dick's. The rest of the rooms on both floors have been blocked out for out of town friends and family.

They'll be rehearsing the ceremony in ballroom. The dinner afterwards, along with the actual ceremony and the reception will be held outside on the grounds. The dresses aren't even being dropped off until tomorrow morning so she doesn't have to worry about that. The silver dress she's wearing tonight is hanging in the closet, the back dips far and she's probably going to be freezing by the end of the night.

She dumps all of the clothes she brought to Vegas into the laundry hamper and starts grabbing things for her overnight stint at a five star resort. She's zipping up her bag when the door opens behind her. She fights the gasp that bubbles in her throat, a reflex she's been trained to be ashamed of. A tilt of her head shows it's Keith and her body relaxes vertebra by vertebra.

She turns slowly, not sure which side of her father she's going to get this afternoon. He looks at her and then glances away, so she prepares for the worst. "Sometimes I forget Veronica," he sighs, "Sometimes I forget that you're twenty-seven years old, because when I close my eyes you're still this baby."

"Dad-" she starts, wondering what he read in her book that could have provoked this kind of reaction. But then Keith crosses the rest of the room and wraps his arms around her, lifting her off her feet.

"It's a great read kid," he compliments, "I'm proud of you."

She relaxes again, all the way this time, and returns her father's hug. "Thanks Dad," she whispers in reply.

* * *

><p><em>5:00 pm Friday September 7<em>

Mac's getting frustrated with her hair, it's not wrapping around like it's supposed to. Her white lace dress is beautiful, made from pieces of her mother's wedding gown, a compromise they'd settled on months ago. She downs a glass of complementary champagne to calm her nerves and concentrates until she can live with her creation. Her hands are still shaking slightly, she'd never imagined it would be like this. That she would get to be a princess with this kind of happy ending. By this time tomorrow she'll be someone's wife, and if that's not the scary she doesn't know what is.

There's a knock at the door and after a second Veronica uses her key card to enter their shared hotel room. She's still in last nights jeans and T-shirt. She sets her stuff down on the ground and smiles at Mac, "Hey pretty lady."

"Hey," Mac smiles as she dabs on the bare minimum of makeup, "just in time for my minor panic attack."

"What's wrong?" Veronica questions as she starts pulling off her clothes. She balls everything up and throws them on what she assumes is her bed. Then she pulls her dress off the hanger and shrugs it on. She's wearing a diamond stud necklace; belatedly remembering it was a present from Logan on her twenty-first birthday. He'll probably appreciate that she hadn't "forgot it during the move" like a lot of the expensive jewelry he'd purchased her through the years.

She still remembers that night in perfect detail. He'd rented out a bar and filled it with all of her friends, she'd ended up dancing on top of the bar and trying to sing along to _Devil Went to Georgia_ with Parker. They'd done a lot of drunken and inappropriate things in the limo on the way home. She'd worn her engagement ring the whole night without fidgeting and he'd smiled bigger then he usually did when they were out in public.

"I'm scared of Dick's family," Mac sighs as she rubs on lipstick with her pinky finger, "I'm being completely objective when I say he's the best of the bunch. And my relatives aren't the most respectable either. They will be asking the bartender if moonshine is on the menu."

"Come on," Veronica replies, as she joins Mac at the mirror in an attempt to tame her own hair, "it's a wedding, aren't pervy uncles and racist grandma's kind of a requirement?"

Mac wishes that those were her only problems, but unfortunately that's not how her life has gone, "Dick didn't invite his mom but all her of siblings are here. His dad is married to some twenty five year old Filipino he met while he was on the run from the cops. She speaks bare minimum English limited mostly to carat, clarity, and cut." She sucks in a gasp of air, "Plus his dead brother is the guy who took my virginity."

Veronica's hands still and she turns to look at her best friend. Cassidy and all he'd done to both of them is something she's been try to forget since prom night. It makes her heart beat in her ears and her breath go shallow. Mac is looking straight into the mirror, her face blank, and when she speaks her voice is paper thin, "Most of the time it doesn't matter but right now it's making me hyperventilate."

She doesn't know what to say, so it comes out slow and awkward. "It's a lot, I know it is," she reaches across to squeeze Mac's shoulder it what she hopes is a comforting gesture, "but you're happy, okay? That's the _only_ thing you have to remember."

Mac blinks, pulling her gaze away from the mirror and training her eyes on Veronica with a bittersweet smile, "Shouldn't you be pushing me out the door? You were making runaway bride jokes five minutes after I told you we were engaged."

"Yeah well," Veronica shrugs, "I've reconsidered." She has, Dick and Mac are getting married. They should get married. She never thought she'd be okay with it, not in a million years. But she also didn't think of a lot of things, like she'd get back together with Logan exactly four days after her flight had departed from New York City. If there's anything more insane then Mac and Dick it's Logan and Veronica part twelve.

There's another knock on the door and then Dick is actually in the room instead of in her head. He takes a look at the two girls and raises his eyebrows, "Bad time? Are we talking girl stuff that will make me go deaf?"

Veronica rubs Mac's back before smiling up at the woman's husband to be, "Perfect actually." She grabs her hairbrush and a handful of bobby pins, making a quick exit stage left. She is more then willing to let the blonde in the suit handle this meltdown.

With Veronica gone Mac turns to face her fiancé with a slow smile, hand going up to fidget with her hair again, "Hey honey."

He leans against the door and crosses his arms over his chest, "Reconsidering the moms thing?"

She shakes her head, "No, not at all."

He smiles wryly, "Reconsidering your choice of groom?"

She exhales, standing and crossing the room to wrap her arms around his waist, laying the side of her finished face on the lapel of his suit jacket. "Reconsidering my insistence of a big wedding. Didn't you suggest eloping in Puerto Rico?"

"The Dominican Republic actually," he corrects, one hand going to the small of her back and the other worrying at her bare neck. She's been sad way too much this week and he's definitely not a fan, "and the offer still stands."

She blinks up at him, looking ridiculously hot in her complicated white dress. There are a million buttons down the back and he's planning a strategy when he realizes for the first time in nearly a year they will be spending the night apart. She smiles mischievously, and it's even hotter then the dress, "We just leave?"

"If you want to. We're rich remember?" he replies with a nod. His fingers rub the shell of her ear, they're triple pierced and one has this painful looking rod through it, tonight she has varying sizes of diamonds in every hole and he touches each one as he looks down at her, "I don't care what we do, as long as _you_ think it's perfect."

She keeps staring at him, she's not crying but her eyes are all red and dry. She remembers the night her website had launched, he'd counted down the seconds in her ear as she clenched her eyes shut. The day her mom had gotten into that car accident and had to have surgery on her leg she'd fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder in the waiting room. She has never felt so completely comfortable with someone. And they could be anywhere and it wouldn't matter. Not at all.

She buries her face in his chest and hugs him tight, releasing him with an, "Okay,"

His eyebrows knit together, "Okay what?"

"Okay let's go downstairs," she whispers as she pulls away, leaning up to kiss him on his cheek, "I'm gonna be fine."

He's still not convinced, "Are you sure?"

She pulls away and looks at him, reaching up to rub her thumb across his cheekbone. He closes his eyes at the touch, just for a second and she leans up to kiss him again.

"Positive."

* * *

><p><em>5:15 pm Friday September 7<em>

He answers the door smiling. "Hey," he whispers, he's messing with his tie. She looks amazing. He's pretty sure he gave her that necklace. The memory involves her in the back of a limo wearing nothing else.

"Hi," she replies, taking a step inside and kissing him without warning. He reacts accordingly, catching her face in his hands and pressing her against the door she'd just kicked closed. It's a good kiss, the kind that makes her head spin and her toes curl inside her high heels.

He pulls away and she lets her head fall back against the door with a smirk, she's still clutching the undone sides of his tie, "So we're pressing play? What exactly does that entail?"

He rolls his eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear and making a face, "You tell me remember?"

She looks down, concentrating on the mess he's made of his blue, silk tie. It's Italian she's sure of it, Logan has great taste when it comes to these things. His shoes probably cost more then everything she's wearing. Excluding, of course, the diamond he'd bought her all those years ago. She's biting her lip as she murmurs, "Do you still wanna get married?"

He takes a deep breath. He can't look at her, "So now _you're_ proposing to _me_?"

She glances up, and there's a catch in her voice. She makes her fingers keep moving, no faltering or hesitation as she wraps and twists the fabric. "Are you gonna get me back by barricading yourself in the bathroom?"

He tightens his hold on the sides of her dress, knowing what he's about to say isn't going to go over well, "How about we live together?"

She blinks, physically feeling as if she's been slapped. "Wow, that sounds like a no. I guess we _are_ even." She pushes the finished knot all the way up to his throat and then tries to pull away. She still has her hair to think about after all, but Logan is having absolutely none of it.

"This isn't a game Veronica," he points out softly, they're still in very close quarters and that makes it easy for him to force eye contact," It's been six years, how can you be sure you even like me anymore?"

Her face is hard and her mouth is as sharp as a knife, "Or how can you be sure of the same, right?

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he whispers, "as much as you try to deny it you've always known that. But taking things slow has never been our strength, so I'm just trying to break old habits. We live together; we figure it out from there. Can you and your emotionally fragile conscious handle that?" He's smiling, confident, cocky. He's used to getting what he wants. And he wants her. Always. Maybe that will even be enough to keep them together this time.

She watches him for an awkward amount of time, silent as she contemplates her future, their future, "Your house or mine?"

She beams and he kisses her forehead and pretends to concentrate, "I think we'll go with my mansion over Keith's bungalow, but let's pretend for a few days just to see if we can get that vein to pop in his neck. You know the one."

"We're talking the house where we were both held at gun point right?" she observes with a kink of her eyebrow, "I'd rather live with my dad."

"So we'll buy a new house," he shrugs, "Like it's hard or something?"

"One that doesn't have seven unnecessary bedrooms?" She's trying to picture looking at houses with Logan. He'd been particular about his apartment, their apartment, in college. He liked open spaces, a lot of light and a lot of big rooms. Anything that didn't feel like a hotel suite or the house he grew up in.

"We'll have one for every night of the week," he argues.

"Pass," she replies with a smirk, "Unlike a high maintenance movie star I require only one bedroom." She waggles her eyes in mock seduction.

"I'm not planning on living in a shack," he prefaces, trying to put to bed all of Veronica's noble notions of living like the ninety nine percent. He's won her over with Egyptian cotton and heated bathroom tiles before. "Which qualifies anything under four bedrooms and not directly located on the coast, so we're gonna have to do that thing that couples do, where they give and take, what's that called-"

She winces, "Compromising?" She tries to make it sound as much like a dirty word as possible.

"That's it," he retorts, leaning in.

She side steps the advance, "I have to fix my hair." She flounces across the room to the vanity mirror.

He turns to watch her go, catching the best part. Veronica naked from the waist up, "Excellent choice."

She glances up from pinning the left side of her hair back and scoffs at him. "Thanks roomie," she winks back snarkily.

And he laughs.

* * *

><p><em>6:30 pm Friday September 7 <em>

The wedding party makes it down the fake aisle in the ballroom. Piz is passing out flutes of champagne and Parker is already slurring a tad. She leans on Wallace as he guides her down the aisle and Veronica and Logan are kissing more then they're talking. The other two couples, Dick and Mac's work friends, look a little uncomfortable but no one seems to notice or care. Dick starts a speech about love and Mac makes gagging noises and the priest is obviously ashamed of all of them. The bride's parents arrive and she forgoes walking down the aisle because Mrs. Mackenzie is already verging on tears. They'll figure it out tomorrow. She'll get down the aisle one way or another. They decide to move to the tent where guests are already beginning to converge.

Mac and Dick knit their fingers together and go off to tipsily greet their guests. Veronica and Logan drift off to some dark corner and Parker laces her fingers behind Piz's neck.

"Do you think we'll ever get married?" he whispers into her throat.

"Wow," Parker hisses sarcastically, "did you feel that? That was my heart skipping a beat."

"I'm serious," Piz grins as he dips her. She's in bright blue. Parker likes loud colors, the kinds that catch everybody's eye when she walks into a room.

"Me too," she smirks, "I can't wait to hear your proposal, 'hey uh, do you think maybe you could say yes, or something?'" She mimics him perfectly.

"Who says I'm _going_ to propose to you," he replies, squinting at her teasingly.

"Oh please," she rolls her eyes, "we're getting married. Two kids and a golden retriever. Get used to it." She smiles and he spins her and he's glad she said it out loud. He's been awkward walking past jewelry stores for months, he's pretty sure he should let her pick out her own ring though. But he's not sure, they'll figure it out in a few months after they furnish their apartment. Maybe they'll buy a dog too.

"Shit," Veronica curses from across the crowd, "we've been spotted."

"By who?" Logan mutters, he's screwing up her hair on purpose, she's nearly positive. He's doing torturous things to the side of her neck as he backs her up against a tent pillar.

"My Dad," she replies, pushing him away as she takes a deep breath and tries to fix the knots she's made in his hair. Keith Mars is zeroing in fast, with Alicia following close behind.

"Here," he reaches out, trying to wipe the smudges of lipstick off the corners of her mouth, "let me just fix it."

"We're the epitome of class as usual," she grumbles as he wraps an arm loosely around her waist and turns to face her Dad and stepmom in a much-needed show of solidarity. "Hey Dad," Veronica beams, "Alicia you look great."

"Sheriff, Mrs. Mars" Logan nods, "Nice to see you both again."

"How's the leg, Logan," Keith asks politely. His daughter looks beautiful, although her hair's a little bit of a mess.

"Getting better everyday," Logan answers.

"And the head?"

"Even better then the leg," Logan replies quickly, he's starting to fidget with the side of Veronica's dress, where silk meets skin. She needs another drink.

"Dad," Veronica interrupts, "We were just headed to bar. We'll be right back. Save me a dance okay?" She takes Logan's hand out from under her dress and drags him away with a wave to her father. Keith smiles and asks his wife to have the first dance.

They make it to the bar eventually, only mildly embarrassing themselves in front of people with camera phones. They find the bride and groom to be there already and Veronica immediately heads towards Mac to get a status update. She's scarfing down an abandoned tray of mini keishes and has just been handed her amaretto sour when her heart stops.

"Holy shit," she reaches out to grab Mac's wrist, her best friend immediately whirls. "Oh my God," Veronica continues to sputter, "Holy shit. Holy shit."

"Veronica," Mac squints, "Isn't that?"

"Jackson," Veronica inhales sharply. She drops her drink; she's feeling very dizzy. She actually just might pass out.


	18. No Winners

**Chapter 18**

No Winners

_6:45 pm Friday September 7_

She moves without thinking, eyes stuck on him despite all the familiar faces surrounding her. Of course he's here. She should have expected it. Her life can never just be simple. Nothing can ever work out, and whatever she puts into the universe comes back to hit her ten times as hard. She should have been nicer to him, probably, she should have have been clearer, she doesn't know how she could have made it anymore obvious, and she certainly shouldn't have told him about the wedding. He's good at memorization, and the invitation had been taped to her refrigerator for months.

He sees her coming just as she collides into his right side, shoving him towards the edge of the tent, "What are you doing here?" She's so angry she could scream. Could physically harm him, her hands balled into fists, her face flushed. He allows himself to be pushed and she shoves him into the dark, out under the stars a dozen feet from the party.

Logan notices her movement almost immediately over Dick's shoulder, sees her confront a guy he doesn't recognize. He moves to follow her like a reflex, a million possibilities invading his brain all at once. Veronica and strange guys don't have the best track record. Mac gets in his way, her eyes pleading, "Just give her a second Logan."

A moment later Dick finally catches sight of the scene. As soon as he zeroes in on the guy his eyes bulge. "Oh shit," falls out of his mouth before he can stop it. Logan sidesteps Mac.

"Veronica just hear me out," Jackson murmurs, reaching forward to grasp at her shoulders. Veronica stumbles back like she's been burned, blinking up at him like he's a stranger.

"You need to leave," she hisses back, wrapping her arms around herself like she's cold even though the night air is still clogged with humidity, "just leave Jackson please."

"I can't leave without you," he insists. She thinks he might have been drinking. He stumbles slightly as he moves towards her again. She takes another step back to compensate and he winces, "I can't, you're lost and I'm trying to help you. New York is you're home-"

She will not start to cry. She won't. "_This_ is my home Jackson," she says it too loud, almost screaming, before adding quietly, "California. Neptune. I used to be lost, don't you get it? This is where I've always belonged."

"You mean you've always belonged with him right?" Jackson replies quickly, the hard line of his clenched jaw daring her to tell him different.

She blinks, shaking her head, her tone taking on the patented 'Veronica Mar's is smarter then you' inflection, "That's not the point of any of this."

"Sure it is Veronica," he retorts, because he knows better, he finally does, "he's what it's always come down to for you. You think I never saw your box with all his pictures and his ring? You try to come off as this badass chick that's above it all, and you had me fooled for such a long time. I just didn't understand the way you operated. I thought you loved me. But there are only a hand full of people that you let mean anything to you, and I wasn't one of them." A gust of wind picks up as he watches her, rumpling his shaggy brown hair. He is a handsome man, even in his wrinkled suit and with a few days worth of stubble. She doesn't know how she can look at him now, the man she'd lived with and worked with for years, and feel nothing but pity.

"I couldn't care less what you think of me," she whispers, looking him in the eye, "So please just save it."

"I'm trying to tell you," he pleads, "it didn't work out before, it's not going to this time. I understand the miscarriage would fuck you up. That it would make you feel like you had some sort of obligation-"

It's only then that she hates him. It's instantaneous and gone a heartbeat later, but she feels it so overwhelming she interrupts, "You have no idea what I _feel_." She'd made a mistake with Jackson, one of so many. She'd hadn't cared enough to be guarded. She'd been as emotionally vulnerable as her bleeding head wound when he'd found her in that building. And now he thought he knew her.

"It doesn't make you connected Veronica, the baby doesn't justify you throwing away your life, it doesn't make you meant to be-" Jackson doesn't finish, because in a blur of speed and fury he and Logan are on the ground. Keith follows only a few footsteps behind, along with Wallace and Dick. Veronica's paralyzed, watching as her two ex boyfriends wrestle each other on the ground. Logan's on top, and Jackson's eye is black and his nose is bleeding. So much for Logan's healing knuckles.

The boys manage to pull the men apart, with Keith screaming for someone to tell him what the hell is going. Dick says something about trespassing, closing ranks on the outsider immediately. Keith makes a call on his cellphone. Veronica doesn't hear any of it. Not a word, because now Logan is looking at her as he tries to catch his breath. She wants to ask him what he heard, but she knows, she can see it in his eyes. That look that tells her he's barely holding it together, that he's feeling that perfect combination of betrayal and heartbreak that only she is capable of inducing. She opens her mouth but he shakes his head and takes off down the lawn.

She glances at Wallace, whose watching her like he always does in these situations, half protective and half disappointed. He rolls his eyes, motioning after the retreating shape of Logan's back. A second later Veronica is chasing after him.

* * *

><p><em>7:00 pm Friday September 7<em>

She catches up to him in the parking lot, she doesn't call his name but he turns anyway. He's not going to yell, it's much worse then that, he's quiet with that damp look in his eyes, "I didn't hold out too much hope for myself Veronica. I actually had none at all. I had you, but we both knew college wasn't going well, that I had no idea where I was headed. And then there was this thing, the last thing I ever wanted, the last thing I ever expected. And I know you thought it's because I wanted to be better then him. That I could do it over and be better, but that's not it. I didn't hold out much hope for myself Veronica but once I started, I couldn't stop. Because I'm good at it, and I'm not good at much," she remember, days ago, when she asked him that question, the thing about being an actor. She should have asked years ago but she'd been afraid. She is always afraid.

"I get these ideas in my head," Logan continues, "You. You're always the idea in my head, and no matter how hard I try I can never get you out. But I can't keep doing this, I can't. It's too hard."

"I was going to tell you," she answers, her voice soft but her chin jutting out.

"Before we kissed?" he asks, shoving his hands in his pockets, "Before we had sex? Before you told me you loved me?"

"After the wedding," she replies, and it's not a lie. That had been the plan, the thing she promised herself as she fell asleep next to him.

"You always do have great excuses," he points out with a nod.

"It's not an excuse. It's the truth," but it's a lie too. Just a little bit. She might never have told him, if only to escape this look in his eyes.

"What do either of us know about truth?" he questions and he's not looking at her anymore because she's crying. She can't help it, he continues, though just barely, "We're liars Veronica. We hurt people, especially each other. And I keep thinking it'll be different, but it _never_ is. We're not different, and we're going to end the same as always."

"Logan-" she tries, but he's not done.

"Was it just because you were sad?" he muses, blinking back to her. And she can see, under the light of the stars that he's doing his best actor face. The one she hates because she can't read a single emotion on it. He's only used it a few times on her, "The only reason we got together in the first place was because of my mom and Lily. And now you lost a baby and we end up together again."

"You know that's not why," she shakes her head, "You know I love-"

"Stop," he winces, "We made a life together. And you didn't even fucking call. Not once." It takes her breath away, those words and the way he says them.

"I didn't know," she insists, and that _is_ the truth, "I didn't know until it was already gone. We've gone through so much, together and apart, I didn't want to add this to the list."

"How did it happen?" he asks suddenly.

Her jaw clenches and she shakes her head, "You don't want to know. I promise."

It's the wrong answer and he snorts, "Yeah but that's the point Veronica. You don't get to decide. I asked, you tell me the truth. That's what you would expect of me isn't it? That's what you expect of everyone else but yourself right?"

"Logan, trust me," she begins again.

"I don't," he spits back, "You demand honesty from everyone around you, you hold us all under a microscope and just wait for us to fail, but when it comes to yourself you can always figure out a way to twist it around." He pauses, shaking his head, "When are you going to figure out that it wasn't me you were trying to protect?"

She opens her mouth, but it takes her too long and he's heading towards his car again. "Logan don't leave," she finally calls, "not because of this."

He turns toward her a final time, his expression still blank, his finger drumming against the hood of the car, "I'll see you at the wedding Mars."

* * *

><p><em>7:20 pm Friday September 7<em>

By the time she forces herself back towards the tent her father is ducking Jackson's head into a police car and people are starting to leave. She couldn't hate herself more. Mac, whose been waiting for her anxiously at the edge of the tent, meets her halfway down the lawn. Veronica braces herself for screaming and tears, but instead Mac doesn't speak, she just wraps Veronica tight in a hug, "I'm so sorry that happened to you sweetie."

"I wanted to tell you," Veronica whisper's into her friend's shoulder. Another truth, it's going to become her policy. Only the truth from now on, of course after it's much too late.

"I knew something was wrong," Mac replies, squeezing Veronica's arm, "You didn't have to say a word." They stand there for a long time, until Veronica can pull away without shaking. "Dick went after him," Mac adds, "Don't worry."

Veronica nods, but her head is already miles away. Wallace is approaching, looking weary. She doesn't give him time to speak though, as soon as he's close enough to hear she calls, "I need to borrow your keys."

* * *

><p><em>8:30 pm Friday September 7<em>

Logan is one tough man to find. But that's probably because Dick goes to their favorite bar and beach before thinking to check Logan's house. His best friend is sitting in the sand sipping some brown alcohol from the bottle. His jacket is by the stairs and his shoes and socks are discarded at random intervals along the stone path.

Dick takes a seat next to him without speaking. Eventually Logan asks, "Did you know?"

"Not all of it," Dick shakes his head, staring down at his hands. Fucking Veronica Mars, he can't even be mad, it's all too screwed up, "Mac's been worried for a year. I knew she was unhappy and I knew something big went down about a month ago. But I don't think even Mac knew it was _that_ big."

"Veronica did though," Logan shakes his head, taking another gulp and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "And she didn't say a fucking word."

Dick thinks about it for a little while before arguing, he doesn't know why but he can't stop himself, "I don't know man. She lost a baby. That's gotta be hard to say out loud to someone you love."

Logan turns his head, "You're seriously siding with _Veronica_ on this one?"

Dick meets his gaze, "No dude, I side with you. Even for the stupid things. I'm just saying, you didn't tell her about that Jameson guy because you still loved her-"

"They're not the same," Logan interjects a little too boisterously.

"Not to you," Dick nods, "But to her, Logan the chick's already severely fucked up, she's lost a lot of shit in her life, and now there's a baby too. Your baby. And she didn't tell you even when you were being a total asshole to her. Even when you deserved it she didn't want to hurt you. And you didn't tell her about her mom and that reporter even though she deserved it."

Logan blinks, staring at Dick for a long time vacantly before shaking his head and turning back to the ocean. He finishes a fourth of the bottle before Dick can persuade him to head back to the hotel.

* * *

><p><em>8:30 pm Friday September 7<em>

Veronica stops at home and the drug store before she goes to the jail. She sits in the parking lot for a long time thinking her options over. She finally decides and hops out of Wallace's car. She'd changed at home, and is back in jeans and flats. An officer she doesn't recognize is at the front desk. He answers her questions, Jackson was arrested for harassment under Keith Mars orders. Deputy Leo is in the back filling out the paperwork now. Veronica nods and heads down the hall to deal with the deputy.

"Seriously?" Jackson questions as she approaches his cell with the keys, "I thought I'd be rotting in here overnight at least."

She hesitates at the bars, looking him over. She doesn't hate him, she can't. She just feels bad for all of them. And right now all she really wants is him gone so she can start to clean up the mess they'd just created, "They're releasing you on the condition that you leave the county immediately."

Jackson nods, shrugging back into his suit jacket, his eye and nose have been cleaned up by someone, "No surprises there, and nothing to keep me here anyway I guess. You never told me your dad was the Sheriff."

"I didn't tell you a lot of things," Veronica replies, putting the keys into the lock, "And you're right, I didn't love you. Not the way you deserved. But I didn't mean to hurt you. I honestly never do. I'm just," she hesitates, she doesn't even have the words to describe herself in this moment, "You can't handle me Jackson. You don't get it. I'm sorry I fucked with your head."

She turns to head back down the hall to give Leo back his keys, she makes it halfway before Jackson calls, "I didn't know he was listening."

"I know," she verifies over her shoulder, "That's why I came to spring you." She takes another step before turning all the way around, "But just so we're clear, if I ever see you again I'm filing a restraining order and giving Logan your home address."

Jackson smiles, and it's only a little bitter, "I hope you find what you're looking for Veronica."

Veronica's smile is the same, with a little bit more confidence. She refuses to believe all is lost, "I always do."


	19. Lifelong

**Sorry this took forever, but as we get closer to the end it gets harder to write. **

**Chapter 19**

Lifelong

_All he can think about is how he should have seen it coming. She's leaning against the opposite wall with her eyes closed and he's holding onto to her engagement ring. He should have chosen the square cut, too many sharp edges biting into his palm. _

_She doesn't always wear the ring. She forgets it on her nightstand and by the bathroom sink. One morning he found it in his sock drawer. It drives Nadine crazy because it means there's constant speculation over the state of their relationship. She's suggested super gluing the thing to Veronica's finger several times. It doesn't bother him. Not really. He knows Veronica better then she'd like, and he expected her to have issues with the ring. He'd expected that given time she would work through it. Marriage was scary, but being married to him didn't really sound all that intimidating. _

_But now he understands. She hadn't been working through it. She'd been freaking out and he hadn't noticed. He'd only realized when he came home from a week in Paris and all of her clothes were out of their closet. Her graduation is a week away and apparently their future plans have become drastically different. As in she's planning on moving across the country without him. He's not exactly taking the news well. _

_Her eyes are swollen but he hasn't seen a tear and he can't help thinking that she has the consistency of sand. The tighter you try to hold on the easier it all slips out. She looks at him, at his fingers drumming on the wall. Wallace had helped her pack up her stuff. She'd never felt like more of a coward then when she was ducking his calls while separating their possessions. "I just don't see another alternative," she whispers more to herself then to him. _

_It was something about the FBI. He'd registered that much before he stopped paying attention. All he can see is that the mantle over the fireplace is bare. It used to be filled with crap she'd bought whenever she came to visit him. Cheap knick knacks she bought in gift shops in between flights to remember all the places they had been together. His throat constricts but he manages to keep his tone flat, "There are a million alternatives Veronica. This one is just the easiest for you."_

_He can see the self righteous clench of her jaw, and she juts out her chin when she replies softly, "You know that's not true."_

_"Because we're so big on truth now? Please, not even taking into account the twist ending move out, you accepted my proposal V, you've lied since the fucking beginning," he volleys the impressive reply back almost instantly and is rewarded with her visible flinch. _

_"I can't take it anymore Logan. I can't even walk outside. I can't do anything without it being some sort of international incident. I don't want to spend the rest of my life being stalked," it comes out like an explosion, and she's left wide eyed and out of breath. _

_He can't think of a reply for a few seconds because he feels like he's been punched in the stomach, and what he does manage is dangerously quiet, "My life isn't some surprise. You knew what you signed up for."_

_"But I didn't know what I wanted. Not really," she replies, "And now I do. The FBI is what I want more then anything. It's my dream. And I can have it or you."_

_"And that's it," he challenges_

_"It has to be," she looks away and blinks to keep herself from dissolving, "I'm sor-"_

_"Just leave Veronica," he says with a shake of his head, kicking off the wall and heading towards the hallway, "We both know you're dying too."_

_"Logan-" she starts, and she has no idea what she could say. There is nothing to make this better. _

_He spins, leveling her with the full force of his newfound indifference, "You want out? You got it. But I'm not going to clear your conscious too." He tosses the ring towards her, and it skids across the hardwood floor until it runs into the toe of her boot, "See you around Mars."_

* * *

><p><em>9:00 pm Friday September 7<em>

She beats them back to the hotel, she knows because she can't spot an asshole canary yellow Xterra anywhere in the hotel parking lot. Instead of being a nervous wreck in the lobby for hours on end she decides to drop some of her things off in her room and then go face the second man she least wants to talk to.

Alicia answers the door, still in her azure party dress. Like Mac there isn't a trace of anything but sympathy on her face. "Hey baby," she murmurs, wrapping her stepdaughter in a hug, "how you feeling?"

"You know," Veronica smiles wryly as she lays her head on Alicia's shoulder, "In my head I pictured the night going differently."

"I think it's safe to say we all did kid," Keith replies as he appears from the bathroom. He's not wearing his jacket or his shoes, and it makes him look infinitely less intimidating. She really just wants him to say all of it's okay.

Alicia gives Veronica a pat on the back and then excuses herself. She kicks off her own shoes on the way to the bathroom. Veronica and her father are left staring at each other. "Dad-" she begins.

"I know there are other things Veronica," Keith sighs as he takes a seat on the bed, Veronica crosses her arms over her chest and leans against the wall across from him, "I know you don't tell me every detail of your life. That something besides Lily must have happened to you in high school. It's hard not to notice it in the looks you and your friends give each other. In the way Logan will touch like you're more delicate then glass. I get that there are parts of your life I will never understand."

"It's just because," she starts, glancing away and biting her lip, "It's because I love you. I don't ever want to hurt you if I can help it."

"I can accept that you keep things from me," he nods. He really can, standing in that tent as that boy had yelled at his daughter, sitting in the front seat of the cop car as he had tried to explain himself, Keith had finally understood the reason he couldn't expect full disclosure from his daughter. Even glancing at the side of her face as she'd turned to glance at her friend after Logan tackled Jackson had been enough to break his heart, "But I cannot accept that you'll spend your whole life keeping secrets from everyone. There has to be someone Veronica, at least one person that you are your whole self with. I need that for you."

"Dad, Logan and I-" she starts, she doesn't know what she and Logan are. They are certainly not together, but they have never truly been apart either.

"It doesn't have to be Logan," he shakes his head, because he wants her to be happy no matter what and no matter who, "It doesn't. Although to be honest kid, I wanted you to marry him. I want you to be loved the way he loves you. But if that's not what you want, if he's really not what you want, then that's okay Veronica. It's okay to let him go."

Veronica opens her mouth to answer him. There is so much left to say. But she gets caught up in the idea of it. The very idea of letting go for good, of living her own life separately from his indefinitely. She'd thought she could do it once, she'd been so sure, but now after only one week of being back it literally feels impossible. But she also know it's going to get so much worse for her before it gets better.

* * *

><p><em>10:20 pm Friday September 7<em>

She camps outside the hotel lobby holding her stupid shoe box for an hour until a visibly inebriated Logan shows up supported by Dick. She's pissed until she realizes she has no right to be. Dick spots her before Logan does and actually looks a little relieved.

"When will this day end," Logan moans as Veronica stands and Dick steers him towards her.

"I need to talk to you," she whispers.

"Lets not," he replies, just wanting to get through this weekend with a few pieces of his fucking heart still intact.

"Okay kids," Dick interrupts their staring contest by shrugging Logan off, "I'm getting married tomorrow. This is officially not my problem anymore. Figure out your shit solo."

"Okay great, bye," Veronica says dryly and without even glancing away from Logan. She doesn't see him walk away and she forgets him as soon as she's gone. There is only one thing on her mind, and she's practically tapping her foot in anticipation.

Logan doesn't say anything, just stands there on his semi wobbly feet staring at her blankly, "Can I just go to sleep please?"

"Jesus Logan," she sighs tiredly, "I'm trying to give you what you want. Do you have to make it so difficult?"

"Yes," he shrugs, "It's only fair."

But still, when she shakes her head and turns away he follows. They walk without talking, and with him a few steps behind. She doesn't exactly know where they're going but eventually she finds the door that leads to the outdoor pool. Setting her box on the nearest table she turns to face him. And the staring contest begins again.

* * *

><p><em>10:30 pm Saturday September 7<em>

She opens the door still in her dress but with her shoes off and a can of mini bar peanuts in her hand. Her lip stick is smudged and her brow is furrowed even when she smiles. "Hey," she studies him, coat off and pants sandy, "I don't know if this is bad luck or not."

"Like anything else could go wrong?" Dicks asks as he sidesteps her and collapses on Mac's bed face first.

"Well that was a jinx," she scolds as she sets down her peanuts on the dresser and deftly twists her fingers to undo the clasp of her diamond bracelet, "Now something else is definitely going to happen."

"Probably," Dick nods into the duvet, ""Veronica cornered Logan and I in the lobby. They're talking now."

"That's a good thing," Mac points out.

"Maybe," Dick relents as he flips over.

"Definitely," she persists, nudging her fiancé with her foot so he'll sit up and unzip her dress, "At this point Logan and Veronica can't do enough talking."

"At least we can tell our kids about a crasher getting arrested at our rehearsal dinner," Dick comments as he pulls down her zipper and kisses her shoulder blade for good measure.

"And at least it drowned out your stepmom's toast," Mac grins as the dress slips off her shoulders. She lets it pool around her feet, stepping out and heading for the bathroom to take off her makeup.

"Hey, Juanita does the best she can with English," Dick argues in feigned outrage as he watches her walk away very closely. After a moment of contemplation he adds softly, "Did you know?"

"Obviously not or I would have intercepted her on the way to the microphone," Mac jokes over her shoulder, it's not until she's looking at her face in the bathroom mirror that she answers his actual question, "No, she didn't tell me."

"But you kind of did right?" he prods, flopping back on the bed again.

"I knew she was hurting. I thought it had more to do with New York guy then Logan," as she swipes at her face with a washcloth she considers the last statement and then adds with a small smile, "Which is stupid because it always has more to do with Logan then anyone else." He doesn't reply so she finishes quietly. She unpins her hair and then walks to the bed, falling down alongside him.

He turns and reaches out, winding his fingers through her hair. It's always been his fascination. She still experiments with streaks and highlights constantly, though she'd dyed it back to a uniform color for the wedding last week. Previously she'd had chunks of coral framing her face. They call her hairstyles eccentric in all the tech magazines, but to him it's just a reminder of the girl he'd fallen in love with in college. She's still the cool girl whose too smart for him. Even though after all these years she's so much more then that. "You look really pretty," he observes lamely.

She rubs a hand over her face, smiling indulgently. "I look tired," she argues.

"Not to me," he replies. She shifts, draping her body over his chest, he accommodates without thinking, lacing his fingers together at the small of her back. Her chin rests just under his collarbone, her dark eyes studying him. "Less then a day now," he observes with a smile, "How are your feet?"

"Sore from all the heels," she cracks with a silly grin. He rolls his eyes so she pushes herself up on her elbow and kisses him lazily. "I love you so much it's probably impossible," she whispers when she pulls away, brushing the hair out of his eyes with her thumb.

"Thank God," he smirks, lifting up to kiss her again.

"Are you sold on this whole separate bedrooms thing?" he asks eventually in a breathless tone.

She nods; a little bit past coherent thought as his hands have long since migrated underneath her slip. He winces and she adds coyly, "But I could probably be persuaded for a brief breach in protocol."

His face lights up as he mumbles against her neck, "You know I love it when you talk dirty babe."

She shrieks as he suddenly flips her onto her back. Her finger knotting in the bedspread as he does his best to make her cave, she closes her eyes, "This is definitely bad luck."

* * *

><p><em>10:30 pm September 7<em>

"I can't let you go," she says it suddenly and in a voice too loud for the deserted pool area. He's just staring at her with a jaw like a rubber band and she knows that if she doesn't get there first she never will. The only solution is to get it all out before he can ruin it.

"Veronica-" he tries to interrupt but they're practically standing a half a room apart so she pretends not to hear it and keeps going.

"I fell in love with you the day we found Trina at that hotel. When you realized your mother was never coming back. You fell apart in my arms and I fell in love with you. And I've never stopped. I'm sorry. I know it's hard loving me back, I really do. I know we hurt each other. But I can't let you go. I have never loved anyone like I love you and it's the scariest thing I didn't do on purpose. I want us to be together, I've always wanted that, but I never know how to make it work. So if this is what you want, if this what you need then fine. I can tell you the truth. I can tell you how it happened." She hates this feeling, the anticipation of laying herself naked in front of someone. It's why she so rarely allows herself the luxury of honesty when half-truths are so much safer.

"A month ago I was in Seattle," she begins, glancing down at her hands in an effort to remain detached. There are certain parts of the story where she'd prefer not to see the look on his face, "I was part of an investigative team searching for a man named Alexander Corso. He'd been hopping across the country kidnapping little girls. Molly Turner in Albany, Yvonne Glazer in Tampa, Holly Clark in Tuscon, and we suspected Amanda Newman in Seattle. We'd compiled a lot of background information on Corso. He'd been abused as a child by his mother, father and whoever else happened to be strung out in the shack he grew up in. When he was twelve his mother mixed the wrong combination of pills and booze and ended up flinging herself off a fifth story balcony. And that was his signature, he'd hurt the girls until they were gone and then throw them out of windows." She pauses, this intimate detail making her swallow hard.

"You're not going to scare me," he warns, his voice empty even though he's hanging on her every word, every twitch of her body. His mouth is dry in anticipation, his fists clenched. He doesn't know from one moment to the next if he's going to cry or drive his hand through a wall. He keeps it all off his face though, afraid that if he reacts even slightly Veronica will stop talking.

"Yes I am" she disagrees resolutely, "I'd been on his trail nearly my whole career, ever since the first case in Albany. He took Molly all the way to Tampa. She was with him for six months. Her mother was crying every time I saw her. By Seattle I was obsessed. I wanted him so bad I couldn't do anything but think about it. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I thought I was throwing up because I was making myself sick." She looks away again and he closes his eyes for the briefest second.

"We caught a break and pinned him down to a warehouse by the bay. We're supposed to search bottom to top, no exceptions. But even though we couldn't hear him I knew where he was. So I broke off and headed to the fifth floor. He grabbed me by the stairs and knocked my gun out of my hand. I got a shot off but it went wild. He kicked my legs out and knocked me in the head until I saw stars. Then he dragged me into the room where he was holding Mandy and locked the door. It took them four and a half minutes to break down the door. He was insane, muttering and screaming and crying. Mandy was bleeding all over, and her eyes were closed. He threw me to the ground and started kicking me. I lost one of my molars and was probably one face shot away from a broken cheek bone. He bruised my ribs and legs but it wasn't until the end that I noticed the blood between my thighs," she hesitates, and as he watches she seems to come to some sort of conclusion and adds, "He was dragging me by my hair when my team kicked their way in. He was going to throw me out the window, me and then Mandy and then maybe himself. And when they shot him he fell on top of me." She doesn't know what she expected, definitely more screaming, but he's giving her nothing. His eyes are staring at her fixedly but she can't tell where his mind is. And maybe that's a good thing.

"I was in the ambulance when they first used the word miscarriage. I was out of my mind in pain. I barely understood my own name let alone what they were trying to describe to me. It wasn't until much later at the hospital that a doctor explained I had been pregnant, around two months along. I knew it was yours because Jackson had been in Atlanta for a month and a half on assignment and by the time he got back it was to break up with me. I can't explain what I felt. I wish I could." It's not good enough. She knows that from the heartbroken look in his eyes, the real him breaking through at last. Logan has always been emotionally generous, always willing to strip himself bare. It's not being even to deny him this, so for the first time she tries to express what she'd felt as she laid nearly catatonic in that hospital bed. Her words come out unsteady and soft but she manages to look him right in the eye, "It was like looking into the sun, it doesn't hurt at first but then you get this black hole in your vision, and even when you blink it doesn't go away."

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out, but for the first time in maybe his whole life he has nothing to say. Surprisingly Veronica fills in the blanks, falling down into a deck chair she hides her face in her hands, rubbing her temples with her palms as she speaks, "I never thought about kids. Not as a reality like most people do. I knew you would want them eventually, but after we broke up it didn't even feel like a possibility anymore. It's pretty funny actually. I was lying in a bed being told I'd lost something I'd never wanted in the first place and I didn't feel relieved. I didn't feel relieved at all Logan."

He wants to touch her, fuck it all and just cross the distance and make them both feel better. But he can't move, he can't do anything. He wonders not for the first time what he did to piss off the God or fate or whatever has a hand in the events of his life. He supposes it's only fair that health, looks, and wealth should come with a price but a dead mom, dad, first love, and first kid seems a bit steep. And that's not even counting what he feels for the girl across from him. The kind of love that is inevitable and miserable and impossible to escape and about a million other things too. The kind of love that makes him forgive her even when he's still angry. He sinks to the ground, finally saying, "Okay."

"Okay?" she looks up, "What's okay?"

"Nothing," he replies, "But what do I say Veronica? Where do I even fucking begin with this one?"

"Someone always has to pay right?" she whispers back, and his mouth falls open. He's about to start yelling when a familiar sound splits the air between them and both whirl.

Standing there impossibly with a gun is a man Logan promised they would never see again. Daniel Jameson smiles, his finger on the trigger, "Speaking of paying…"


	20. Same Deep Water As You

**Chapter 20**

Same Deep Water As You

_10:45 Friday September 7 _

Her mind clears instantly. Instinctively. It's second nature that she just can't shake no matter how shaken she actually becomes. In order to train you to deal with the most stressful situations the FBI devotes months upon months to tearing their trainees apart. Veronica was deprived of sleep, of comfort, of sight, and food and equilibrium and god a hundred other things that make her sharp as a tack even when she should be shitting herself. Logan learned to stay calm in a crisis through regimented training as well. Except of course Veronica was making a career out of it while Logan was simply trying to live his life while avoiding a belt to the back. Or sometimes doing everything he could to ensure it.

So though any sane people in their situation would be paralyzed with terror Veronica and Logan's heart beats elevate not even slightly. That is of course until the gun gets raised. Then all bets are off. Like an idiot Logan moves, trying to get closer to the tiny brunette he'd just been about to scream at. He's not above providing a human shield if absolutely necessary. Unlike Veronica he's already realized that the rest of your life is a long time not to speak to someone ever again. He'd rather it be her rather then him that has to deal with the lifetime of silence, in that regard she would be stronger and it's as simple as that.

The ground in front of him explodes as Danny lets off his first shot of the night. Pieces of concrete erupt out of their setting and fly in every direction. The hole made is just six inches short of his left foot. And either Danny is an incredible shot or a shitty one. Veronica lets out a telling noise that is a wrenching mix of shriek and sob. She wants to freeze him in time, because the clock is ticking now, people had to have heard the gunshot, and all too soon that defiance in his eyes will turn to desperation.

"No more of that, pretty boy," Daniel commands, taking a few steps towards Veronica.

She's not looking at him, though she it was also drilled into her mind never to take her eyes of the man with the gun. She's making sure Logan still has all of his toes. She's making sure he can still walk and run and do all that crazy shit he likes to on a surfboard. She's making sure she's not responsible for anymore of his missing pieces. "Logan don't," she whispers, and it's a noise far too intimate for such a scene, "don't move." It's a plea, he can hear it in her voice and in her eyes, and for once he knows that they are on equal footing, both hoping for two very different endings.

He looks at her, dark hair and dark eyes and he sees the wheels turning in her head just as they are in his. He can't stop looking at her for so many reasons. A gun pointed in between them and they're having a fucking staring contest. How perfectly in character.

There is no upper hand. He moves, he gets shot, and Veronica's alone with Daniel Jameson and his shiny, shiny fucking gun. The reason he and Weevil couldn't find dirt on the guy for so long was because that wasn't his real name. With his real name he'd supported a drug and alcohol habit for nearly a decade. Anthony Russo. He'd made several missteps with his local mob and was currently in deep debt. He needed fast cash, and that's why he was now pointing a gun instead of dropping a manuscript.

"Eyes on me beautiful," he orders Veronica, "Now honey I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you get in the way. This man's done a lot to screw me over in the last couple of days and I plan on getting even."

"Not going to happen," she whispers, her bright red lips still in tact from the rehearsal dinner. It feels like a lifetime ago. There is no fear, no trace of doubt or indecision in her gaze. She looks him in the eye just like she did Alex Corso, Cassidy Cassablancas, and the dozens of other men who've tried to tear her life apart. When there is nothing else left Veronica still has her impeccable poker face. And in that moment Daniel learns Veronica Mars is nothing like her mother.

"I don't see what you're going do to stop me sweetheart," he chirps, the gun now pointed indecisively between Logan and Veronica.

"Me neither," Veronica smiles wryly, because the longer they keep talking the more likely it becomes someone will stumble across them, "That's my problem. But I can't let you shoot him." When Daniel glances over at the boy his eyes are wide as he watches her speak, his mouth hanging open.

He tries to disguise his frustration with a knowing smirk, "Don't tell me you're still in love with this one."

"In how many ways can I say fuck off?" Logan snaps, still without looking. What the fuck is she doing anyway? Playing games and thinking she's the smartest person in the room, typical Veronica. He always forgets how disconcerting it is to feel this pissed and protective at the same time. He doesn't know if he'd prefer to save her or drown her at this point.

"Yes," Veronica nods, blue eyes wide but still completely calm, "So you can assume that if he goes I go. You're already talking about shooting a celebrity, now we're going with his ex fiancé and the local sheriff's daughter. I'm government, but if you met my dad you'd _pray_ the feds got to you first." She smirks back at him as she adds, "So it looks like you have a problem too."

Logan clears his throat, for the first time looking away from Veronica, "I would like to make it explicitly clear that this is not a package deal. In fact I'll go with you right now if it means she's out of the equation."

"I'd pull the fire alarm," she snaps, and now they're looking at each other again. Her hair flies in her face as she whips her whole head around. And he can't picture it. He refuses to picture it. He'd tried so fucking hard to make sure this didn't happen. To ensure this man's words couldn't break her heart figuratively, and now she was in a position where his fucking gun might do it literally.

"And then the guy with the gun will shoot me in the head V," he cracks back without hesitating, trying his best to make it sound like any other sentence. The same indifference he'd assign to opening a door or starting his car. He'd get shot in the head. Same old everyday shit right?

"He's not going to kill you Logan," she retorts like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like there isn't evidence to the direct contrary in front of them. She glances at Danny as if he's inconsequential. A case file she's just placed back in her drawer. The urge to kill her returns. "He still wants your money otherwise we'd be reading all about his new book. I'm willing to bet that Ronnie Moretti isn't going to wait for him to shop around the manuscript anyway."

When he gapes at her, literally open mouth gapes at her, she actually has the balls to look just as angry as he feels. If he'd come to her first they wouldn't in this mess. "You think Weevil's the only person in this town capable of running a background check?" she hisses, "It took him months to get what I found in a few hours."

"I'm taking the girl," Danny says suddenly, intent on breaking the lover's quarrel that has unexpectedly broken out in the middle of his hold up. He didn't give a fuck what either of these idiots had on him. He had the _gun_. And in his world that's all that mattered.

"No you're not," Logan's voice is definitive, the muscle in his jaw pulled as taunt as a rubber band.

"I'm done fucking around," Danny argues, cocking the gun. Glad that even though Echolls is mouthing off he's yet to move. Veronica Mars would make a hell of a hostage. Deep pockets over there would be willing to pay a shit load more then ten million to get her back. For all that pretty face and hot body apparently had to offer to him she was little more then dollar signs.

"Me too, you even try and you're going to have to kill me," Logan also knows a lot about staring down psychopaths. In his house it was called dinner. He was there at six o'clock or Aaron came looking for a fight and almost always found one, "And she's poor as shit so you'd be pretty fucked after that."

"Logan," Veronica cautions, she's so close. Danny just needs to make the last three steps.

"She's coming with me," Danny repeats as he moves to cross the distance between him and the small brunette. The gun now definitively pointed at her, "Move and I'll shoot her in the foot, then the knee." Daniel never sees it coming, and for that matter neither does Logan.

She's small. It's a fact. Along with everything else about her the FBI had trained her to use her size as a weapon. Danny's overly confident, assured because of his obvious advantage in size and strength. Her hands are free and he's much more focused on Logan then on what she's doing.

The gun is extended towards her chest. It only takes two motions. She uses her right hand to knock his arm off balance, and he shoots over her shoulder. Then she twists his wrist, and the gun falls out of his hand completely. A split second later it is in two pieces in her hands. She throws one part in the pool and the other in the bushes. For one moment the older man stares at her in complete shock and then he's on the ground with Logan on top of him. She types 911 into her phone while Logan throws punches.

Leo's on the way for the third time this week when she finally realizes Logan hasn't stopped just because Daniel's knocked out cold. She calls his name but he doesn't respond so finally she shoves him. She has to do it three times until he finally blinks up her with something other then blind rage. They are caught there, her kneeling down with her hand on his shoulder and him panting as he tries to remember where he is. The adrenaline is why all he wants to do is kiss her. It's all about the adrenaline.

She blinks first. Standing to find him a towel so he can clean himself up before others arrive. "What happened to the increased security?" she whispers softly as he winces over his hands. She distinctly remembers promises being made so that this exact situation didn't arise.

"Who needs them when I have you to fight my battles for me," he replies, and their might be something like pride in his voice.

She wants to yell. More they anything she wants to scream and cry and make him feel absolutely awful. This is his fault. But she realizes with odd clarity that it doesn't matter. She doesn't even care. He's alive and so is she and the relief of it makes her hands shake. "Fuck," she curses as she watches them, trying to ignore it as she helps Logan to his feet.

"It's okay," he doesn't know why he says it, nothing about this night has been okay. All he knows is that he has to outlive her. He has to. Even if they never see each other again, even if he still can't look her in the eye, she can't get sick and she can never die. He can't handle it. Will go absolutely crazy at the thought.

She runs her fingers through her hair and winces. He isn't hurt, the only thing she has to focus on is the beating of her heart in her throat and those horrible moments she keeps locked in the back of her head. She doesn't know how to say it, but she looks at him with her arms wrapped around herself and murmurs, "Can you just?" She can't finish, but he understands.

He remembers, so clearly that night she had shown up at his apartment after their second breakup. She hadn't needed to say a word. He was miserable and so was she, and the only thing that would make it better was suffering together. Their third breakup was ended much the same way. Like polar opposite magnets they were unendingly drawn together.

Most of the time their miserables canceled each other out, and she was the only girl he'd ever been with who could even come close to understanding him. And maybe that's because she was also the only girl he'd ever been with who absolutely required that he care enough to try. He could lie to Lily, to Hannah and Caitlin, and now that he was famous the girls he hooked up with didn't even require that amount of maintenance. But with Veronica, whether with a look or a carefully staged phone call, had in her power the ability to absolutely wither him. She was allergic to his bullshit and could use words as tools of combat as effortlessly as him. His money made her so uncomfortable she would fidget and she was just as fearless as him if lacking his occasional death wish. They were compatible, but their puzzle pieces fit together roughly. And that was definitely the best and worst part.

He knows what to do, and as usual it doesn't require words. He walks forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders. It's not just her hands that are shaking, he realizes. Her whole body is trembling underneath him. "It was my fault," she whispers and neither is sure to which situation she is referring.

"No it wasn't," he shushes her, it really doesn't matter to him, "It's going to be okay. I promise Veronica, it's going to be okay." She eases her arms out of their position around herself and fists her hands in the back of his shirt. She doesn't know when she starts to cry, it makes absolutely no sense, but his fingers are in her hair and his thumb is rubbing across the crook of her neck and it is just so sweet and so Logan. She doesn't let go. She can't let go even though barely ten minutes ago he'd made it very clear she is the misery of his life. She doesn't know how she can absolutely hate someone and still love them with all her heart. She has never known.

They stay like that until Keith comes stumbling down the stairs in jeans and a wrinkled dress shirt, flanked by an exhausted looking Leo who is also in his street clothes.

* * *

><p><em>11:15 pm Friday September 7<em>

"That's the third time," Mac observes in a high voice as she falls back into the mattress. She's focused on trying to catch her breath, but also on the fact that Veronica has called her three times in rapid succession.

"I thought they were supposed to talk to _each other,_" Dick groans as he turns to lie on his stomach. The covers have been kicked off along with their clothes and they both lay bare on the top of Mac's sheets.

"They probably have, and now she wants to vent about it," Mac explains. Dick does not comprehend girl world, although it varies little from the whispered conversations he has with Logan in his home office.

"Okay well you're busy." Dick argues, as his eyes flutter closed.

"Was," Mac corrects as she stretches across him to grab her cell phone. "Hey Bond," she chirps, and then her face falls, "What? WHAT? Oh my God. OH MY GOD."

Dick turns, seizing the phone from his practically apoplectic fiancée. "What is happening to you?" his whole face screws up as Veronica explains where they are and why, "Holy shit we'll be right there."

Mac is already half way into a pair of sweats as Dick barrel rolls off the bed and tries to figure what the hell he was thinking when he believed Veronica and Logan could have a single fucking conversation without it involving gun fire.

* * *

><p><em>11:15 pm Friday September 7 <em>

"And that's the truth?" Keith questions as he jots down notes on a pad. Backup arrived a few minutes ago and is now taping off the scene. Daniel Jameson has already been loaded into an ambulance with a handcuff around his wrist. Logan has been texting Nadine, who is at DEFCON 1 and currently suggesting they deny anything and everything.

"She's on a new painfully honest kick actually," Logan replies with a grimace, but when Keith continues to scrutinize his features he manages a tone that is distinctly genuine, "It's all their Sheriff."

"He should have hired a bodyguard," Veronica mumbles, her voice is hoarse. They are in twin deck chairs a few feet apart and she is feeling mutinous. Hearing him recount all the earlier details that she hadn't been privy to makes her want to strangle him. And then having to admit her part, she can rationalize being jaded to law enforcement when the police station had been headed by a literal idiot, but now her former partner in crime is leading her city's defense, and what can her excuse be? She is drained, in all the ways someone can be, and she just wants to get all of this over with so she can sleep.

Logan doesn't even look over. He should have done something differently, and that's all that matters. "You both should have come to me," her father remarks sternly before flipping the pad closed, "I should take you to the station, but I know you both have something very important going on tomorrow."

As if on cue the very disgruntled, soon to be married couple arrives at the border of yellow tape. "I really wanted to believe this whole thing was a joke," Dick laments, "Like surprise we were kidding about the gun point thing, here's a beer and an eye roll for being gullible."

"Excuse me sir this is a crime scene," an officer states, trying to get in the way of Dick's view.

"Excuse me sir," Dick parrots, "but my_ life_ is a crime scene."

"We're with them," Mac interrupts, reaching over to grip Dick's arm. "Veronica," Mac calls, and the brunette turns. Glancing at her father first, who nods, Veronica stands with Logan following in quick succession.

"Mars," an officer calls, and both father and daughter turn, "what should we do with this?" He's holding Veronica's shoe box and plastic bag. She crosses to him in four strides.

"I'll be taking those back," Veronica answers, "It's personal." After an eye roll from her father he once again nods and Veronica's items are given back to her.

Veronica and Logan make it back to Mac and Dick at the same time, their expressions looking equally grim. "Do we need to postpone the wedding?" Mac blurts.

"_What?" _Dick looks down at his wife to be in horror.

She doesn't look up at him. Her eyes are fixed on their two best friends. "Do we?" she repeats.

"No," Veronica shakes her head, Logan makes his opinion clear the same way, although he adds a fuck for emphasis.

"Okay," Mac smiles, squeezing Dick's arm, "Good."

"Great," Dick agrees, "Because I don't care if the two of you really had been shot. I'm getting married tomorrow."

"To yourself," Mac grumbles jokingly.

"I'll be upstairs in a second," Veronica replies, glancing at Logan. She just has one more thing to give to him, one more painfully honest thing, and then he can decide for himself.

"See you in a minute dude," Logan mimics loyally.

"So does this mean no more sex," Dick questions as they walk away.

"Not for twenty four hours," she kisses him before pushing him towards a different elevator, "See you at the altar, I'll be in white."

"Love you," Dick mouths as his elevator doors close.

"Love you more," she whispers back to the metal shutters.

Back near the pool Veronica hands Logan the shoe box, "This is for you."

"I thought it was personal," he observes, remembering the evil eye she had given her father's guy for even touching it.

"Most of my personal is your personal too," she notes and when he still looks at her blankly she adds frustrated, "Just open it Logan." And then she walks away, because looking at him is breaking her heart.

When he is sure, completely positive, that she is gone he takes a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs in the hotel hallways and opens the box. He can't help but grin when he sees what's on top.

_Epic_

A novel by LM Duncan.

* * *

><p><em>11:20 pm Friday September 7 <em>

True to her word Veronica lets herself back into the hotel room a few minutes after Mac does. Surprisingly only a minute later there's a knock on the door. Parker, in her nightgown and with her hair preciously mussed, looks murderous.

"I see neither of you is actively on fire or preparing to pull a runaway bride," she hisses, "So I'm going to do it, truly this time, I'm killing Veronica."

"I need your help," Veronica replies with an eye roll, as she dumps the contents of her plastic bag on her bed, "Both of you."

Her purchased treasures include a bottle of bleach, a carton of hair dye, and a pair of scissors.


	21. Blonde Ambition

**Chapter 21**

**Blonde Ambition**

****_12:30 am Saturday September 8_

"Love is just a word, and what I feel for you is so much more," Mac begins and then trails off. She and Parker have spent the last hour cutting and combing Veronica in the hotel bathroom. All three of them reek of bleach and dye and are covered in long, brown hairs. She'd started reading her vows right around the time Parker handed her the third glass of champagne.

"It's lame right," she whispers more to herself then to the girls. Veronica is wiping dye off of the corners of her forehead and Parker is snipping at the stray ends around her ears.

"Not lame," Parker shakes her head, "Nothing you say will be lame."

"It's just," Veronica hesitates, loathe to intentionally cause a problem when she does it so well without even trying, "Dick's not going to remember what you said about love. He's going to remember what you said about loving him."

"Well what were you going to say?" Parker asks as she moves on to layering the hair at back of Veronica's head.

"When?" Veronica looks up.

"When you were going to marry Logan," Parker elaborates with an eye roll. Trust Veronica to casually forget a half planned wedding, "You must have at least thought about it."

"I just disarmed a man twice my size with my bare hands and that's what you want to hear about?" Veronica asks incredulously.

Parker makes a noise in the back of her throat, and Veronica starts to fear for her hair, "It feels like your GI Jane moments occur constantly. Your human moments _never_ happen." Parker steps back from what she's going to call her masterpiece to catch Veronica's eyes in the mirror, placing her hands on her hips she adds, "So man up Mars, what would you have said?"

Veronica blinks at her reflection. "I would have told him," she begins, before she pauses and starts again, "I would have told him that I love him the same way he loves me: because of his flaws and not in spite of them."

"What does that mean?" Parker squints at the mirror while Mac looks down at her fingernails. She knows _exactly_ what her best friend means.

Veronica doesn't want to talk about it. For the same reason she never wants to talk about it, because it won't make sense. But Parker is looking at her with a challenge in her eye and Veronica can't back down. "It means that he's damaged, he's flawed, but if he weren't we wouldn't match. It wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be able to love him as much, to understand him." It's not coming out right, she can tell by the look on Parker's face. She decides to appeal to Mac instead, turning even though Parker screeches and pokes her shoulder with the scissors. "It's like Dick right? You can talk about anything and it would be okay? It's the same. If Logan, if we didn't carry the same scars he wouldn't be able to know me so well. So I love that he never sits still and that he's always carrying some asshole comment in his back pocket. It's nice that he's overgenerous with his emotions, that he can act like an open wound, because it makes up for me. Sometimes I even love when he uses his fists to solve problems."

Neither of the girls speak, although Mac holds Veronica's gaze steadily. After just enough time to make the silence awkward Parker lets out a low whistle, "I'm almost relieved you didn't get married. You shouldn't say that out loud to people Veronica."

"It wasn't that bad," Mac replies sympathetically, "It was sweet."

"She loves Logan because he's fucked up?" Parker questions with a flail of the scissors, "She loves that he's twitchy, occasionally violent, and has mood swings? She sounded like the start of a Lifetime movie." Veronica's mouth falls open. This is why she doesn't talk about it, because she's painfully aware of how awful it sounds. That it barely makes sense to her, let alone other people who aren't inside her defective brain.

"You know she didn't mean it like that," Mac shakes her head, finally breaking eye contact with Veronica to finish her glass of champagne. Mind buzzing she leans back in the desk chair she'd stolen from the other room and stares at the ceiling, "It's just Neptune, and growing up the way they did. It's nice to be understood. It's nice to be around people who get what you've been through. And that's a tall order when you're Veronica and Logan."

"Or Mac and Dick," Veronica whispers treacherously.

Parker purses her lips, someday they should all have a contest. Raped in College. Switched at Birth. Veronica Mars. "Yep," Mac agrees without so much as a flinch, "Us too."

"So do you love _him_ because he's fucked up?" Parker asks the now only brunette in the room.

Mac considers it, finger running absent mindedly around the rim of her champagne glass. It's awhile before she straightens up and looks at her bridesmaids, "I love him because, because he was such a surprise. Really the biggest of my life. He's patient with me. He's so sweet and he listens and he shows up. He takes care of me. Really for someone who used to be so childish it's become like second nature. Being around him, after Cassidy, it used to make me uncomfortable. And when he wanted to date me I thought it was a joke." She smiles to herself and shakes her head, "He was such a great surprise."

"That's what you have to say," Veronica whispers, moving again so she can lean forward and squeeze Mac's hand.

"That's exactly what you should say," Parker agrees, blinking back a few sentimental tears, "Oh my god Mac." Parker's so distracted she forgets to scold Veronica for moving again.

Parker looks over her handiwork. Veronica's hair has gone from brushing her shoulder blades to falling just above her actual shoulders. The layers are choppy, framing her sharp cheekbones and the color is a perfect gold. She checks to make sure the sides are even before taking a step back, "All done."

"Wow," Veronica breathes as she stares at herself. She hasn't been blonde in almost half a decade.

"Welcome back Veronica Mars," Mac replies.

* * *

><p><em>3:30 am Saturday September 8<em>

Logan opens the door to the hotel room feeling like he's going to explode. His hands are shaking as he holds Veronica's shoebox under one arm and pushes open the heavy door with the other. Dick is on his stomach, his head falling off the edge of the bed. When the light from the hallway shines on his face he stirs, rubs his forehead, and squints up at Logan, "Dude where the hell have you been?"

"You were right, she's the goddamn devil," Logan snaps as he throws the box on his bed. Along with the manuscript it had held dozens of their old pictures, the jewelry she'd sent back to him that he'd immediately sent back to her, and four letters she'd tried to write but stopped in the middle. And then of course there was the tiny little box he remembers so clearly with her engagement ring. She is impossible. Of course it's the first time in eight years when he has the ability to say goodbye to her and mean it and she's finally refusing to let him.

"Is this her satanic bible?" Dick asks, nodding towards the manuscript.

"No it's her book," Logan sighs as he pulls off his tie.

"_The_ book?" Dick questions as he reaches across to grab it, "Mac had a rough copy, but I wasn't allowed. Or all that interested." He starts leafing through the pages while Logan heads into the bathroom to change out of his suit.

"It might as well be titled all the things I should have said to Logan," he explains through the bathroom door, "Trust Veronica to be honest only when it's anonymous." He emerges in long gym shorts and a T-shirt and collapses on top of his bed.

"So what's she saying?" Dick mumbles as he rolls back towards his pillows.

Logan looks up towards the ceiling, trying to remember exactly what he'd felt when he read certain parts of Veronica's book. It was obvious she had modeled the male protagonist, and occasional antagonist, after him. What also appeared obvious to his still slightly drunk brain was that half the passages regarding his character were actually just things Veronica never had the guts to tell him out loud. "That it wasn't just because of Lily or my mom," he replies, "That there are a million other detailed reasons."

"You were worried about that?" Dick squints over.

"Not for me," Logan shakes his head, "I know the whys. I just wasn't sure if she ever figured them out."

"Anything else she should have told you?"

"That she missed me," Logan adds, "That she regrets things. That she is what I've always known, secretly a marshmallow at the center."

"Wow that's a hell of a hidden language you two have developed," Dick replies as he starts read a section. A single paragraph in he realizes he's actively taking an interest in the interworking's of Veronica Mar's mind and tosses the book away like he's been burned. He stands suddenly, "Fuck it. You and I have been having way too many deep conversations this week. We need the mini bar not anymore of the shrink's couch." He throws Logan a tiny bottle of whiskey.

Considering he's only just about to be totally sobered up after reading the conclusion to Veronica's book Logan takes a moment to consider the alcohol. But only just a moment. "Sounds good to me man," Logan nods before cracking the seal of the whiskey.

* * *

><p><em>8:00 am Saturday September 8<em>

Mac allows herself to be hung over for exactly ten seconds before she shoots out of bed. Somehow they all managed to get drunkenly tangled up in her California king bed. "I'm getting married today," she says as she roots around in her suitcase for a pair of jeans.

"I'm going to be hung over today," Veronica groans from where she's curled up at the foot of the bed with more then her fair share of the blanket.

"Oh my God," Parker's head emerges suddenly from where it had been covered with pillows. She thrashes around looking for the clock, "What time is it?"

"Eight," Mac answers as she yanks off her sweatpants and starts jumping up and down into her jeans.

"Mac," Veronica groans, letting her head fall back down, "honey you're not getting married until sunset. Go back to bed. Hair and make up doesn't even get her until noon."

"I'm getting MARRIED TODAY," Mac repeats, now at a decibel that makes both girls want to die. She pulls on her mother purchased, tacky white sweatshirt with a glittering BRIDE stamped on the back and heads to the door.

"Does that mean we're waking up?" Parker asks in a whine. But Mac only answers with the slam of the hotel room door.

"Where is she going?" Veronica shoots up them. Falling off the bed and onto the floor. Throwing off the pair of boxer shorts she fell asleep in she grabs the nearest alternative available, a pair of Parker's jean shorts, and runs out after the bride.

Parker considers following but concludes, "Well, she didn't make me maid of honor." She falls back asleep instead.

* * *

><p><em>8:00 am Saturday September 8<em>

"I haven't written my vows," Dick sits up in bed like a shot.

"Dude shut up," Logan groans, running the back of his hand over his eyes and rolling over towards the wall.

"No this is serious," Dick shakes his head frantically even though it's pounding, "this is like run away bride serious." He stands, circling his bed to get to the desk in the sitting room.

"What?" Logan asks groggily as he hears Dick banging around in the desk drawers.

"I'm going to be up there, I'm going to open my mouth, and nothing is going to come out," Dick replies as he whacks his head on an open drawer. He finds the stationary though and a pen. His heart is racing as he tries to figure out what he could possibly say that won't make him sound like a moron.

"I need more verbs," Logan appears in the doorway as Dick collapses in a huff on a love seat, "What's the problem?"

"I. Haven't. Written. My. Wedding. Vows." Dick enunciates as he stares at the blank pad of paper.

"You make it sound like it's hard," Logan smirks as he falls into the overstuffed couch, propping up his feet on the coffee table and tilting his head back.

"Not to you," Dick snaps dramatically, "You and your author, secret agent ex make us look like illiterates. I know about the 'epic' speech dude. Whatever you said was so fucking good that she wrote a book about it." Dick writes epic on his pad of paper and then scribbles it out. He starts to think of synonyms. Should vows rhyme?

"The book's not about Veronica and I. Plus I was blacked out when I told her that," Logan corrects with his eyes closed. No matter what he said last night to Dick he's not making any more assumptions until he talks to Veronica. She wanted him to read it so there must be parts he was supposed to find enlightening, but it can't be as much he thinks. It can't be.

Dick throws his pen down and glares at his best friend, "Do you think that's helpful to me right now?"

"Just being honest" Logan replies, serenely.

"Yeah well just being honest, you're an asshole," Dick observes, "Everything you say is a panty dropper."

"Lets avoid those kinds of classy adjectives when were brainstorming the vows you're going to be making to your future wife," Logan advises as his head rolls to the side and his eyes open lazily to connect with the groom's.

"I am so fucked," Dick mutters.

* * *

><p><em>8:05 am Saturday September 8<em>

"I know," Mac says immediately when her frazzled mother opens her hotel room door. She had been banging on that door for a solid three minutes before someone answered. Her mother is in a nightgown and robe, thick plastic curlers stuck in her blonde hair.

"Honey what's wrong?" she asks as she sees her daughter's flushed face. Mac smiles as she wraps her mother in a tight hug.

"I know Mom. And it's okay," she whispers into her mother's ear calmly, "It actually doesn't matter at all."

"Honey what are you talking about?" her mother repeats bewildered, she hugs her daughter back though.

"I'm getting married today Mom," Mac continues as she pulls away, keeping her hands on her mother's shoulders, "To the man I love and surrounded by the people I love. I don't want there to be any more secrets after today. I don't want you to ever be afraid that it would change anything."

Her mother's hands go to the sash on her robe nervously, "What do you know?" Veronica appears out of breath in the hallway alongside the women, having followed Mac's voice. She stops short and doesn't say a word to interrupt.

"I know that I'm so lucky," Mac explains, "because even though I was born to the wrong parents somehow I still ended up exactly where I was supposed to be." Mac's eyes are glittering but only a few tears fall as she speaks. Veronica steps backwards and out of sight.

"We never had any money," Mac's mother shakes her head, "And you were smarter at thirteen then your father and I ever were."

"I wouldn't change a thing," Mac argues, and now she's crying for real, "Not a thing. I was always meant to be your daughter. You knew it when I was three, and I've known from seventeen to twenty-seven." She wraps her mother in a hug again.

"And what I ever did to deserve such an amazing daughter God only knows," Mac's mother sighs, "I love you Cindy."

"I love you too Mom."

* * *

><p><em>8:25 am Saturday September 8<em>

Dick's going crazy. How did Logan not predict that the big bridezilla tantrums wouldn't come from the actual bride but from her infantile groom? Dick had gone through the entire pad of paper trying to pick the right word to describe Mac's smile and then thrown the phone at a wall when the concierge didn't answer by the third ring. Logan had been sent out to run bitch errands. He had to come back with pens, paper, and vending machine snacks or he was ninety percent sure Dick was going to end up in tears.

He gets to lobby and finds that there's already someone at the concierge desk. She's rocking some major bed head and a pair of jean shorts that are tight in all the right places. A hot blonde if he ever saw one.

Wait a fucking second. He squints at her. She's wearing one of his Neptune High shirts. It's gray with the year of his class and a small tear at the back of the collar. He'd recognize it anywhere even though he hasn't seen it in years. Which can only mean one thing. Holy fuck.

"Hi," Veronica leans up on her tiptoes and plants her elbows on the counter. The shorts hike up. The goddamn devil. He barely hears the rest of Veronica's sentence, "I'm just checking to see if the dresses for the Cassablancas and Mackenzie wedding have arrived."

"And you are?" the brunette concierge asks over the rim of her glasses.

"Veronica Mars," she explains, "I'm the maid of honor."

"I have the invitation," the concierge nods, "but I'm going to need to see some identification to release the dresses to you. It's policy."

He doesn't need to see her face. He can tell from her voice that Veronica's expression has turned sour. She glances down at her barely there shorts and the shirt she slept in, "Do I look like I have an ID in this outfit?"

"I'm sorry Miss Mars," the concierge's voice takes on a more formal tone, "Maybe if you find the bride-"

Veronica takes a deep breath and then she start to argue sharply, "The bride is having a moment with her mother, if you expect me to interrupt them to deal with a dress crisis you're-"

Logan steps to her side before it comes to blows. Veronica glances over and pales just ever so slightly, "Logan Echolls, I'm the best man-"

"I know who you are Mr. Echolls," the concierge smiles shyly.

"Of course you do," Veronica snorts.

"I'll go get those dresses," the concierge smiles sweetly at Logan and no one else and then turns to head into the backroom.

"They all know they hate me for breaking your heart, but they never remember what my face looks like," Veronica murmurs before turning towards Logan with a hand on her hip, "How's yours doing?"

"He's fine," Logan replies automatically. He can't help it. He reaches out to touch a blunt end of her new (and old) hair, "Did you lose a bet?"

"No," she shakes her head, even smiles a little. She juts out her chin, the way she always does when she's trying to look brave, "I decided to break the cycle. I'm all in."

"To being blonde again?" he replies sarcastically.

"Logan-" Veronica begins.

"Here they are," the concierge interrupts as a bellboy appears pushing a rack of covered gowns.

"Thank you," Veronica replies politely before turning back to Logan. Right now is not the time to talk about their problems anyway, "You promise he's doing okay?"

"No more surprises Veronica," Logan promises as she heads down the hall with the dresses.

"Hi," Logan turns his attention back to the blushing concierge, "I need some more stationary. And maintenance should probably come and see if the in suite phone is salvageable."

* * *

><p><em>8:30 am Saturday September 8<em>

Dick is on Mac's floor, which holds the nearest vending machine. Logan's taking too fucking long to get the food. He's right about to punch in the numbers to get his cookies when he hears the elevator ding and hears his fiancée's voice. He has just managed to turn towards her when she jumps into his arms and wraps her legs around his waist. He's barely recovered from that and she's already kissing him, long and hard with her fingers stitched in his hair.

The motion sends him back a few steps. He blinks at her dreamily when she pulls away, "Someone told me this was bad luck."

"I'm not in the dress," she shakes her head, a goofy grin on her face. She runs her fingers over the dark circles under his eyes, "You look awful."

"That's so sweet of you to say," he replies.

"I told my mom," she says suddenly.

"About what?" he squints at her. She makes a face and his eyes widen as he understands, "Wow, I'm so fucking proud of you." He spins her around the hallway and then kisses her again.

"It's not that big," Mac shrugs but she's still wearing that silly grin.

"It's huge. Monumental," Dick argues, and now he's smiling back at her, "Way to start the day off right Mac Attack."

"Are you okay?" Mac asks as she stares down at him, body still wrapped around him. Her eyebrows knit together in concern.

"I was perfect before," Dick replies with a smirk, "I'm even better now." She's about to make a comeback to his sappy thought when the elevator dings again and Veronica appears.

"Dresses are here," she announces in a singsong voice. Mac shrieks and jumps off of Dick, sliding her key card into the door so Veronica, the bellboy, and her wedding dress can get into the room.

"See you soon," she waves out the door to a dazed looking fiance. "Love you," she adds as the door clicks closed.

When Dick makes it back to the hotel room Logan is just rolling in the loot: three pads of paper, a dozen pens, and a whole cart full of pastries. The concierge, Rose, had gone a little overboard with the help. "Okay Dude," Logan proclaims, "I got your shit, lets cool it on the bitchy tantrums okay?"

"We're good," Dick smiles, opening his bag of cookies and taking a seat on the couch.

"What does that mean?" Logan asks as he bites into a cheese danish.

"It means I got it. Everything is gonna be perfect," Dick elaborates, "It's time for a nap."

"I love that attitude," Logan smiles as heads back towards his bed. Passing out is the only way he's going to get the blonde ghost of girlfriend's past out of his head anyway.


	22. Only for You

**Finally what you guys have been waiting for, or at least part of it. **

**Chapter 22**

Only for You

_2:30 pm Saturday September 8 _

"The pink will go better with your skin tone," Veronica observes mildly as Mac and the make up artist who just arrived discuss the benefits of pink vs. red lipstick. The hair stylist, who had wrapped her and Mac's hair in wide rollers before moving onto Parker nods in agreement.

"Since when do you speak girl?" Parker asks with a smirk as she sips the tall glass of water she's been clutching all afternoon. She's recently come back from assuring Piz she hadn't been abducted in the middle of the night. When he woke up to find her gone, her cell phone sitting on the bedside table next to him he'd had a slight freak out. Thankfully he'd come to Mac and Veronica's room before taking matters further, Veronica has seen enough cops this week to last her a few lifetimes.

"That's a government secret actually," she winks as runs her fingers over the glass full of clean makeup brushes. There had been dozens of women in the FBI who could make magic with those things. They had taught her how to paint a smile on her face. How to dress and walk and talk and pretend until she could become another person with just the tools in her closet and purse. It had all seemed so simple then, so utterly clinical. She lived for the ending, the closed cases and the solved mysteries. She had never really learned any other way.

There's a soft knock at the door and Veronica, the only one not getting primped, shakes out of her daze and rises to answer it. Mr. Mackenzie looks older then Veronica's ever seen him. Mac's Dad is graying around the temples, his fingers worrying the fabric of his tie. He is such a sweet man, and the look in his eyes reminds Veronica so clearly of one she's seen before. "Hey Mr. Mackenzie," Veronica smiles as she motions him inside the room, "What's up?"

Mac turns as soon as she hears her father's voice. He wasn't in the room when she'd spoken to her mother, but he must have heard by now. "Sorry to bother you girls," Mac's father begins, "but can I have the room for I second? I need to speak to my daughter."

Parker, whose hair is only half finished starts to argue, "Actually sir-"

"Yes," Veronica interrupts, her tone and the look she shoots Parker leaving no room for further comment, "yes we'll be right outside." The make up artist and hair stylist go to grab some other supplies out of their van while Veronica and Parker wait in the hallway. As soon as the two of them are alone Veronica rolls her eyes at her friend, "Jesus Christ Parker, can't you tell?"

"Tell what?" Parker asks, fingers running delicately over her fresh manicure.

"It's the father daughter moment," Veronica explains, "It's the my baby's a grownup, and in a few hours some other guy's going to matter more to her then I do. It's the_ look_."

"How do you know that?" Parker squints, both of them know that Veronica didn't get anywhere near her own wedding day.

Veronica shakes her head looking up at the ceiling as she remembers, "Mine didn't happen a few hours before, more like a few months."

* * *

><p><em>"Veronica calm down," Logan whispers as she gulps down the last of her wine. She's been doing her best Logan impression throughout the beginning of dinner. She hasn't stopped fidgeting, running her finger through her hair, twisting her napkin in her lap, and drinking alcohol like it's water.<em>

_"Me?" Veronica looks at him with wide, innocent eyes, "I'm fine. I am the definition of cool, calm, and collected right now." She gestures to herself and almost knocks her silverware off the table._

_"Tell that to my knee," Logan grins, as he peels her fingers off him one by one. She's also been touching him nonstop, his hand, his arm, his knee. She'd told him after his first movie premiere that his nervous energy was contagious, and now he knows exactly what she means. It's taking everything he has to remain the calm one in this situation. He knows that him stressing out will only make her worse, but it's hard when she's practically vibrating in the seat next to him. _

_"Sorry," she apologizes, balling her numb hand into a fist and then stretching out her fingers. She glances at him guiltily, a smile she hopes is comforting pulling at her features, "It's gonna be fine."_

_"I know," Logan replies evenly, giving her a genuinely comforting smile and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Veronica's not sure, she really isn't. There are many areas of life that Logan knows more about, none of which have anything to do with fathers and daughters. The dynamic he was raised in was so flawed it hurts her heart to think about it. His father wasn't his confidant, Aaron Echolls had never made Logan feel safe or like he was proud of him. Logan was worried about physical violence, so he has absolutely no idea that it would only take a look to devastate her. Keith Mars, the Sheriff of Neptune's daughter marrying the kid who'd staged bum fights, taken a baseball bat to a cop car, and been arrested for murder before he was even legal. That is not the man she knows, but unfortunately it's what the world will see. _

_"Sorry about that," Keith apologizes as he returns to their table. "Alicia couldn't find a wrench."_

_"A wrench?" Veronica asks, her words coming out much too fast, "What does she need a wrench for? Is she gonna whack somebody on the way home from work? Does she need to put together an emergency book case?" _

_"You're sweating," Logan points out in a whisper, noticing a bead of perspiration falling down her neck. All her hair is piled on top of her head, it's long now, and this week she's gotten so easily frustrated with it. "Hey Veronica didn't you say you had to go to the bathroom?" Logan asks pointedly, glancing at his fiancée. _

_"What?" she whips her head around to face him, "Are you, are you sure?"_

_"Go," Logan mouths, nodding his head in the direction of anywhere else but this table. After another second of hesitation and a guilty glance at her Dad Veronica takes his advice and gets the hell out of there. _

_Keith stares at his daughter's boyfriend, who returns his gaze without flinching. Logan picks up his water glass to take a sip while Keith asks evenly, "Logan is my daughter pregnant?"_

_Logan chokes, actually physically starts choking. "She's drinking wine," Logan points out as he coughs. He fights the urge to tell Keith that his daughter had only switched to wine after his arrival, before that she'd been chugging rum and cokes like they were about to be outlawed. _

_"Then what the hell is going on?" Keith Mars questions, continuing with his best cop stare down. He and Logan get along for the most part, mostly because Logan hasn't given Keith any reason to want to kick his ass lately. _

_"I asked Veronica to marry me," Logan replies, continuing with his best indifferent youth tone, "She said yes." He smiles then, because Keith should know that it means something to him, that it means everything. _

_"And that's it?" Keith prods, not sure he believes that there isn't an ulterior movement as to why his stubbornly independent daughter and the biggest slut in Neptune have suddenly decided to settle down. _

_"I mean it felt pretty huge at the time," Logan snorts, but then adds with a shrug, "but yeah that's it."_

_"You're young Logan," Keith points out, glancing down. _

_"Only in body," Logan defends immediately, fist clenching underneath the table despite his best intentions. _

_"I know it feels like that-" Keith tries again. _

_"No Sheriff that's how it is," Logan interrupts, voice lowering every so slightly, "I'm young and so is Veronica but only in age. We've been through more shit at this point then a lot of people survive in a lifetime." _

_"Logan-"_

_"I get why you'd be worried," Logan continues, "Hell I wouldn't want my daughter to marry me either, but I love her. I want to take care of her, as much as she'll let me. Veronica deserves to be taken care of. She deserves not to be worried about anything ever again." _

_Keith stares at the boy, maybe the man, in front of him. The man his daughter loves, and the man who loves his daughter. He probably should have known it would come to this. "That's hard to argue with son," he relents eventually. _

_"Then don't," Logan pleads, "We make each other happy. She's been worried about this for days. Don't argue, just say congratulations." _

_He sees Veronica approach over Logan's shoulder, a nervous grin on her face. His only child, his beautiful baby girl. He stands as she reaches them, reaching out to pull her into his arms. "Congratulations kid," he whispers into her ear._

_"Thanks Dad," Veronica replies back breathily, and it doesn't escape Keith that even with one arm wrapped around him she reaches out to squeeze Logan's shoulder in appreciation._

* * *

><p><em>5:30 pm Saturday September 8<em>

"Okay say, 'we could at least pretend we like each other,'" the photographer requests as he snaps another picture of the most awkward couple in the wedding party. They're standing next to each other, but the guy has his hands in his pockets and the girl's arms are crossed over her chest for Christ's sake.

"Sorry," the blonde apologizes as she glares up at the best man. He's supposed to be a fucking movie star. He could at least _act _like he's happy.

"Not as much as you're going to be when Mac sees that picture in her wedding album," Wallace observes, he and Parker already provided their couple shot. Mac wants a picture of the pairs that would be walking down the aisle together before the wedding ceremony. That way she has a record of it before everyone gets tanked at the reception.

The whole wedding party minus Mac and Dick are gathered near the prettiest part of the hotel garden. Blooming white roses surround them on all sides, providing a perfect contrast to the burgundy of the bridesmaid dresses. It would be perfect if Veronica and Logan didn't look like the definition of miserable.

"You guys totally hooked up didn't you," the photographer asks with a knowing grin. Veronica's mouth falls open and Logan scowls dangerously.

"Oh god lets not even get started," Parker moans, pressing her palms against her temples. Who knows, after all this shit her head might actually just go ahead and explode.

"Ambitious," the photographer nods approvingly, glancing at the other blonde hovering over his shoulder, "usually they wait to hook up until after the wedding."

"Hey guy I don't know, less fucking commentary and more doing your job," Logan snaps as he takes a half an inch step closer to Veronica. He looks murderous and overwhelmingly uncomfortable, not at all like the collected guy on all of his movie posters.

"You're not making it easy man," the photographer replies.

"Push the tiny button on top," Logan explains as if he's talking to a child, "I thought you were paid to know this?"

"Logan-" Veronica begins and Parker, Wallace, and everyone else looking on can tell this is about to devolve into a screaming match.

"Oh for God's sake," Parker exclaims suddenly, shoving past the photographer to get at everyone's somehow favorite and least favorite couple, "Your arm goes here, yours go here. What are we in junior high? Now look at each other and smile or I will kill both of you tonight." When she steps back Logan's arms are wrapped around Veronica's waist, her hands gripping his wrists.

Without meaning to his fingers brush the fabric of her dress. She glances up at him, just a flick of her eyes and she's caught. She looks at him and he gazes back down at her. He hasn't said a word about the book, or about the other dozen excruciatingly personal things she handed to him last night. She gives him the fakest smile she can manage. The shutter on the camera clicks to capture it.

"Hey, its time to take our places guys," one of the other bridesmaids calls from the hallway. Logan releases Veronica immediately and takes a step back. She walks forward, towards the beach, without so much as glancing at him.

"Sex must have been great," the photographer observes as he glances down at the camera screen.

* * *

><p><em>6:00 pm Saturday September 8 <em>

"You know when I took my first step, I didn't know it would all lead to this," Logan whispers dramatically as all the guests find their seats. He's looking out the closed resort doors they're about to walk out of. A large stone patio is where the guests are seated on either side of a trial of white and red roses. Past the stone patio is the beach and then the ocean. The private beach is empty. Mac and Dick rented it out so that no photographers would swarm in hopes of getting a shot of Logan and Veronica. The sun is beginning to set on the horizon and every inch of the patio that doesn't have a chair is filled with candles.

"Logan we all understand that you were above the wedding rehearsal," Parker snaps as she hops on one foot in an attempt to untangle the strap of her high heel, "I'm sure Mac failed to take into account that there are more then a few cops who know you can walk in a straight line."

"This is my moment Parker," Logan continues with the pseudo excitement in his tone, "Don't ruin it for me."

Veronica appears, straight out of the bathroom where she'd had to adjust about three layers of fabric and a pair of control top underwear just to pee. Her hair is pinned up perfectly at the crown of her head with just a piece on either side to frame her face.

"Hey guys," Mac whispers as steps out into the hallway. Immediately all eyes are on her. The tight bodice of her dress shifts seamlessly into a flowing white skirt, her hair falls in waves down her shoulders and her veil trails all the way to the floor. It's not just her beautiful outfit though. Today Mac is so happy she glows.

"Oh wow," seems to be the wedding party's consensus.

"Mac," Veronica begins as she crosses the distance to her friend and wraps her arms around her, "You're getting married. You're really, God it's actually happening."

"I love you too Bond," Mac replies as she squeezes her best friend back hard.

Parker approaches the two, smiling. As Mac pulls back she realizes Veronica has started crying, not just a few tears either. "Oh sweetie," the bride whispers, "don't be sad."

"I'm not," she replies, wiping her eyes with the backs of her hands, "I am _so_ happy for you. You made it."

Mac's Dad appears, looking a little misty eyed himself and the wedding march begins outside. The wedding party takes their places and Veronica links her arm with Logan's. "There really were no more surprises," Veronica whispers as she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Well you're crying at a wedding," Logan observes without looking at her, "so there was one."

"I've been crying a lot this week. It's not surprising at all," Veronica replies and then glancing up at him she adds, "How's my makeup?"

"You're beautiful," he says without looking down. And then it's their turn and the wedding has begun.

* * *

><p><em>6:10 pm Saturday September 8<em>

The ceremony goes by in a blur for Mac. The only thing she remembers is the beginning. When she steps into entryway and onto the rose petal path she sees him immediately. He looks great in his tux, his hair falling in his eyes. She thought he might look nervous, but his smile is just as wide as hers as she walks towards him.

The guest list was small, and she makes it to the altar in record time. She doesn't look away, even as her Dad kisses her cheek and lets her go and even as she hands Veronica her bouquet. She reaches forward and they lace their fingers together as the nondenominational pastor she had meticulously selected begins to speak. She thought during her wedding she'd feel self conscious, but she doesn't feel anything other then love, other then the excitement that after all these words are said and vows are exchanged they will be married. She doesn't register anything that's said until Dick begins to speak.

He takes a deep breath. God who knew this was going to be hard? He starts with a list, "It's because of the smell of your hair, your eyes when you smile, the way your lips more when you talk. How smart you are, how driven you are, the way you make me want to be both of those things too. That you don't have to fake anything, because you're never afraid to be yourself or say what's on your mind. It's because of the day drinking, the spazzy way you dance, and the fact that you can't cook but keep trying anyway. I love you for a million reasons. I find a new one everyday. And I don't know, I'm not very good at this. But I was nineteen when I started to realize how amazing you were. How much I wanted to be apart of your life. And it took two years to prove I was serious. To show you that you could trust me and count on me and that I wasn't that guy you went to high school with anymore. I don't know where'd I'd be if I hadn't convinced you. I never want to know what my life would be like without you in it. So I vow to keep the stupid questions to a minimum, to stand with you in front of an Apple store every time a new product launches, and to keep my eyes open when you explain it for fifth time. I vow to be faithful, to try to make you happy every chance I get, and to take care of you whenever you'll let me and sometimes when you won't. I vow that this is forever, because you're the best friend I've ever had, and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life having a freakin' blast with you."

It's her turn, but she doesn't know if she can, if anything she says will come close to what he has just laid at her feet. "I knew I should have gone first," she murmurs, using one of their interlaced hands to wipe her eyes. She takes her own deep breath and looks at him, a smile growing as she speaks just to him, "I didn't know it was possible to laugh so hard I cried sitting on a metal bench in hundred degree weather while cars drove in circles for hours on end. In twenty years my parents had barely gotten me to smile. I didn't know camping was supposed to be fun or that I could enjoy a baseball game even if I didn't bring my Kindle. Without you I wouldn't know where to put my feet on a surfboard, how to crack the perfect dirty joke, or the temperature of the ocean when you jump in at two in the morning. I wouldn't know that excitement trumps fear every time, that life isn't supposed to be lived in front of a glowing screen, or that sometimes the biggest chances you take get you the biggest rewards. For all the things I've learned from professors and computers, you are constantly teaching me lessons. So I vow to try and make you smile as much as you make me laugh, to never stop letting you talk me into things, and to always appreciate your ability to turn any situation into a joke even when it makes me want to kill you. I vow to tell you my worst fears and my biggest dreams and to always point out when you're being amazing, because you so rarely notice. And I vow to love you always, even though sometimes it doesn't make sense to anybody but us."

"Do you Richard Casablancas take Cindy Mackenzie as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward as long as you both shall live?" The pastor asks.

"Hell yeah," Dick answers immediately, it's just a whisper though so he adds, louder this time as he slips the ring on her finger, hands shaking, "I do."

"And do you Cindy Mackenzie take Richard Casablancas as your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward as long as you both shall live?"

"I do," Mac replies.

"Then by the power vested in me by the state of California I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may-" the whole church erupts into laughter as Mac and Dick move at the same time, kissing each other before the pastor can even get the words out.

"You may now kiss the bride."


	23. I Do Pt 1

**Hey guys! Yes I am aware its been forever. Okay so originally this was supposed to be the final chapter, which was supposed to be followed by an epilogue. Well as the length should tell you everything got WAY out of hand. It's pretty much because I decided to give some space to Mac and Dick. Starting this story I put them together because I felt it was the most interesting way to throw Veronica and Logan together after such a long time, but after writing them for so many chapters I started to genuinely enjoy them as a couple. So I decided to spend some of the final chapter developing their story and giving a little insight into how they got together in the first place. Obviously the Logan and Veronica of present day are mixed in as well. Hopefully I give one couple a great ending and the other a great beginning. Let me know what you think. **

**Chapter 23**

I Do Pt. 1

_It's almost spring. Mac can feel it in the air. She'll finish this semester and only have one year left of college. One year standing between her and wherever the hell she feels like going. She can practically taste it._

_The last thing she needs, the last thing she wants, is this little crush of Dick's to distract her. She probably should have been harsher that time he tried to kiss her when they were freshmen. Or when he tried to do it again when he got back from his summer break in South America. She'd spent sophomore year avoiding him and it seemed like he was doing the same. At least that's what she thought it meant when he smiled and nodded instead of trying to talk to her. _

_But apparently Dick was just biding his time. They'd shared a class in the fall of this year. He sought her out every single session, sat next to her and tried to make conversation. She'd thought they could be friends, or at least friendly, but it had become painfully clear that Dick wasn't looking for friendship. And this time he wasn't taking no for an answer. _

_She thought it was harmless, even as Veronica cocked an eyebrow as the first bouquet arrived at their apartment door. He just wasn't used to rejection. He would get over it. That had been in January. Now, as April approached every open surfaced in the tiny apartment she shared with Veronica and Parker was covered in flowers. A million different kinds, as no two arrangements were ever the same. Their scent infects every corner, clinging to the girls even when they leave. _

_She knows where to find him, stretched out in the grass on the quad, his sweatshirt pillowed under his head and a baseball cap over his face to hide it from the sun. She says his name once and he doesn't stir, so she drops his latest delivery on him. A dozen pink roses and the water that came in the vase too. _

_He pitches forward, the hat flying off his face. He winces at the rush of sunlight, but can't help but smile when he sees Mac standing over them. She realizes how ridiculous she must look, determination on her face, holding a dripping vase with both hands. She swallows back any kind of amusement at the situation. She will not find him funny. She will not find him funny. "You have to stop doing this," she commands, leaning over she sets the vase down next to him in the grass. _

_"Fine," he shrugs. Sitting up he brushes the flowers off of him, careful of the thorns. She knows it's not going to be that easy, they've had this conversation before. Sure enough he glances up at her under his eyelashes with a smirk, "Pick you up Friday?"_

_"Terrible idea," she shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest and preparing for the argument she knows is about to come. The flowers have succeeded in that regard she'll admit. They are talking more then ever, it's just a lot louder then he probably wanted._

_"Then the game's still on. Prepare yourself for more wooing," he replies, pushing himself off the ground so he can shrug out of the shirt she'd just soaked. He's not pissed. He knows he was asking for it, and hey a pro of Mac is she looks hot mad. _

_"Or as the California court system would see it, stalking," she snaps back. She will also not feel guilty for drenching him. Or anything at all as he throws his shirt to the ground and faces her in nothing other then a thing gray T. _

_"Most girls would be flattered," he points out, mirroring her stance with crossed arms and a head tilt. The move does nothing to lighten Mac's mood. _

_Instead she darkens, running a hand through her hair she remarks with a wry grin, "Yeah well I've never been like most girls,"_

_The smile he gives her in return is genuine and warm, like they share a secret. He takes a step towards her and whispers, "I know."_

_The flowers wouldn't bother her so much if she could throw them away. If she could actually bring herself to get rid of even one bud. She knows that it's driving Parker crazy, and that Veronica has taken to calling home the funeral parlor instead. But she can't, can't throw or give them away, and she doesn't know why. She ignores the sweetness in his words and squints up at him skeptically instead, "So if this is a game to you then what's winning?"_

_That drops the smile from his face. He throws his hands in his pockets but manages to keep his steady gaze on her, "I don't know yet." It's honest, which is more then he's ever been before. If there's one thing she should know it's that he didn't see this coming either._

_"I do. I've known you almost my whole life remember," Mac observes, her tone no longer so generous. She knows how Dick plays games. The girls never win. "So prepare yourself for more rejection," she offers in parting before turning on her heel and escaping. It never occurs to her that he'd follow. He never has before. _

_He catches her by the wrist and spins her around, "You really think I'd be working this hard if all I wanted to do is sleep with you and run? I'm hot and in college. All I have to do is walk into a party and nine times out of ten I'm pretty much guaranteed to fuck something." She doesn't wince, doesn't even blink and he deflates immediately, letting go of her wrist, "I like you. In this weird way that makes me want to know things about you. Like ask you questions and actually listen to your answers-"_

_She interrupts him, "It's not a good-"_

_"Idea," he finishes her sentence with a roll of his eyes, "You've said that before. And believe me I've tried to get past it. Being into a girl who's obviously not interested isn't as fun as I make it look Mac Attack. But it's been months and I still want to the send flowers." He runs a self-conscious hand through his hair. Fuck this is uncomfortable. How do people do this constantly? He tries one last time to make himself clear, "I'm not asking to get married. All I want is to buy you dinner and ask you questions." _

_When she doesn't say anything, still stares at him with that same, calm gaze he sighs. He loses his seriousness, a mild smile ironing out his features. "Okay," he shrugs, turning around he heads back to his spot to continue with his nap. _

_She calls his name once and he looks back over his shoulder. "Friday. Eight o'clock," she concedes quietly, glancing away her face finally picks an emotion. She smiles again, not skeptical or cruel, it's a smile that says she has even shocked herself, "Don't make me regret it." _

_"Not on your life," he answers with a wink. She nods and walks away, hoping she didn't just make a huge mistake, and he lies down determined to convince her she didn't._

* * *

><p><em>6:20 pm Saturday September 8 <em>

The vows make her cry. How could they not? Despite her assumption that Dick's would probably be three sentences tops he genuinely hits it out of the park. She can't look anywhere but the floor because if she locks eyes with Mac, or God forbid Logan, she's going to lose it for real.

Everyone applauds and laughs as Mac and Dick are declared man and wife. Then there's a bit of an uncomfortable silence when the two of them keep kissing for longer then ten seconds, then twenty and thirty. They're verging on a minute when Veronica clears her throat and Logan smacks Dick's arm and whispers under his breath, "Come on man, she's wearing white."

They shift apart eventually, both grinning and starry eyed. The sun has dipped below the horizon so the only thing that's lighting the outdoor patio is the hundreds of candles surrounding them. Everything is glinting and shadowed as Mac and Dick just stare at each other.

"We're married," Dick observes breathlessly. Mac laughs as she leans forward to wipe her lipstick off his face. He grabs her wrist to pull her forward and kiss her again.

"Jesus," Wallace laughs next to Logan as everybody begins to stand.

"Okay," Veronica claps as she steps in front of the couple, "The reception is inside and down the hall. Cindy and Richard will join us-"

"Whenever we feel like it," Dick calls from behind Veronica's back, before picking Mac up off her feet and spinning her around. Her veil is falling out because he can't keep his hands out of her hair and she knows they should stop. As usual she should be the voice of reason. But they're married and she just can't help it, can't even try.

As people file out Veronica crosses the beach to stand by Wallace. He raises his hand and with a smirk she gives him the high five he's asking for. "You made it through the entire ceremony," he observes, "I owe Jackie a twenty."

"I didn't even cough," Veronica replies, "or make the speech I brainstormed on the plane about how some people should just live together their whole lives."

"I can hear you Mars," Dick calls over his shoulder, the violinist that played Mac down the aisle is now striking up again to lead people off the beach. He's taken a break from making out with his new wife to attempt to put her veil back the way it was.

"I reconsidered," Veronica points out as she pulls her out of its updo, letting all the pins fall onto the patio stones, "You really pulled it out with the vows Casablancas. I even believe you wrote them yourself." She glances over at Logan who, though standing only a few feet from her, manages to make it feel like miles. He's staring away from the group, watching the waves crash against the shore.

"I didn't write a thing," Dick replies as he finally manages to untangle Mac's veil from all her curls, "I just thought about my wife. And naturally the words came out awesome."

"You came up with that on the spot?" his wife questions, an even bigger grin appearing on her lips. She grabs his tie and throws an arm over his shoulder, whispering up to him, "If I could marry you again I would."

"Okay are you guys going to throw down on the beach," Logan mutters, glancing over as the couple begins to kiss once again, "Because there are some things you can't un see."

"Logan would know," Veronica mutters. As Wallace pulls of his tie Veronica takes it from him, wrapping it around her bouquet for safekeeping. The windows in the banquet hall are open and voices filter out onto the beach.

"Yep, I lived through your sex tape remember?" Logan asks, his voice is low and amused, making it clear that their wedding truce is over. Veronica opens her mouth to retaliate but Parker gets there first.

"Technically not a sex tape," she distinguishes, throwing an arm around Logan's shoulders and smirking over at him, she adds, "And Piz still has PTSD from the beat down, so don't mention it within earshot."

"Or we could just not mention it period," Wallace cuts in, his tone making it clear his suggestion isn't up for discussion. He likes Logan, hell they might even be friends, but if forced to pick sides there isn't even a question as to where he'll land. It's not like Veronica doesn't give as good as she gets, but to him it doesn't matter. She has his back and he has hers, and that's just the way it would always be.

"The kids are getting restless," Mac observes as she pulls away from her husband.

Dick sighs, laying his forehead against Mac's. Tilting just slightly he stares at his wedding party dubiously. "Fine, if you guys can't play nice we'll just have to separate you," he concludes, and without blinking he bends over to throw Mac over his shoulder, "The wife and I need sometime alone. Try not to break into a fistfight on the dance floor. Or do whatever, as long as you avoid the kill shots V."

"No promises," Veronica snaps as Dick jogs inside with a shrieking Mac. Without glancing at Logan she links arms with Wallace and heads inside behind the newlyweds.

"Burrrr," Parker shivers dramatically, "From beautiful to sex tape in less then an hour. You do know how to keep the girls guessing Echolls."

When Logan doesn't give her a smartass comment and a smirk in reply, instead actually glances away and frowns she squints up at him, "You know what you're doing?"

"She lost a kid," our kid Logan runs a hand over his face, looking up at the sky, "She begged for forgiveness and I can barely look at her."

The small smile falls from Parker's face, "I know."

"You want to hear a secret," she asks and when Logan and his puppy dog eyes glance down at her she enlightens him. "You're a good guy," Logan scoffs and she grabs his arms to force him to maintain eye contact, "People tell you different, hell _I've_ told you different, but it's true. You try so hard to be otherwise, but when it matters you'll pick her every time."

"She lied. Veronica does that. She also pretends to be strong even though she's definitely not tough as nails," Parker continues, "And if it hurt you that much to hear about it imagine what she felt living it." She squeezes his shoulders, "You're a good guy Logan. Act like it."

* * *

><p><em>The dates going shitty. He can totally tell. She's being cool about it, but he's nervous and he doesn't know how to make a girl like Mac like a guy like him. They'd talked about school, he'd cracked a few ill-advised jokes that had barely made her smile, and generally he had sweated and been uncomfortable.<em>

_She's going to blow him off. It's obvious that he's fucked up and she's going to slip through his fingers. He'll become one of the mistakes she made on her path to the perfect guy a few years down the road. That idiot who wouldn't take no for an answer and barely tried when given the opportunity. It's the drive home and she's staring out the window for Christ's sake. _

_Fuck it. He is not going down like this. He's turns the wrong way, taking her to the one place he never feels uncomfortable. She doesn't say anything until they pull into a parking space, that wry smile back in place, "I hope you don't think-"_

_"Wanna go for a walk?" he interrupts like he hadn't heard he speaking. Which he almost hadn't as his heartbeat is in his ears. What is he even going to say?_

_She blinks, opens her mouth like she might say no, but then bends down to pull off her boots, "Sure."_

_They walk across the parking lot barefoot and then down onto the sand. He takes the lead, walking until they reach the tide. He comes to stand right where the waves can brush across their toes. The bottoms of his jeans are soaked instantly, but he doesn't even seem to notice._

_"I really like you," he turns his head suddenly, and the words are almost too quiet to hear. They nearly get lost in a wave._

_"Why?" she doesn't look at him, her face trained upwards towards the stars, "Is it just because I knew him?"_

_"What?" his head cocks to the side as his brain tries to go the same direction as hers. Beaver. Cassidy. She's talking about his brother, "No."_

_Maybe it had started that way. Guilt isn't an emotion he's used to feeling. The way he treated his brother, fuck the way he treated her. It's something he might never forgive himself for. And that's probably how it's supposed to be. "I like you," he starts, not sure where he's going until it all tumbles out, "Because you don't even have to try to be awesome. You just do what you want and it ends up that way."_

_Now she looks at him, "What?"_

_Yeah that made almost no sense. What the fuck is he even trying to say? "Like you were friends with Veronica even when people were saying awful shit about her. And you learned how to hack the CIA while the rest of us were getting high," the explanation is disjointed and he's talking too fast, "And you don't give a shit that I have money or connections or whatever the fuck it is people say about me. That move you pulled? When you dumped the flowers on me? Gold. And I'm sorry about dinner. I remember that place being much cooler. And you see that's the point right? I don't do things like that. I don't worry or take girls to the beach and talk to them about-"_

_"Anything?" she finishes with a quirked eyebrow. It's the biggest smile she's given him all night. Maybe ever. And he laughs in agreement, the tension in his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. _

_"I think I want to be like you," Dick continues slowly, like he's figuring it out for himself as he says it to her, "But mostly I just want to be around you. "_

_"You should have put that on a card," she whispers back honestly, "And for the record I can't hack the CIA."_

_"Yeah but I bet you've tried," he knocks their shoulders together conspiratorially, an easy grin crossing his face as she laughs. God that's nice._

_"Anything else you want to tell me," she asks as a gust of wind rushes down the beach, sending her hair flying all over. Throwing her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket she turns to face him again. This is the last thing she expected. Who knew Dick would take her to a restaurant where the cheapest entrée cost more then her entire outfit and then end the evening baring his soul barefoot at the foot of the ocean? _

_"Yeah," he nods still smiling, "But I'd rather ask all those questions." _

_"Ok," Mac nods, and then she makes a sweeping gesture towards the beach, "Wanna walk?"_

_"Yeah," Dick replies, "Let's walk." He can't help it. Something's never change and he pushes his luck, throwing his arm around her shoulder. She doesn't lean in, but she doesn't tell him to let go either._

* * *

><p><em>6:45 pm Saturday September 8 <em>

Everybody has taken their seats when Logan taps his fork against his glass. Veronica, the only person still standing, rushes from her father's table back to her seat next to Mac. She falls into her chair just as Logan begins to speak.

It starts off just as she expected, with a charming grin and a chuckle. Logan tilts his head as he gazes down at his seated best friend, "Jesus Dick you must be really nervous about me and this microphone. The stories I could tell…" Dick doesn't even blink, silently daring Logan to do his worst, "Hey remember that six-month span you were convinced Patron gave you super human strength? Or when we nearly got killed in Mexico because you wanted to bring some cartel guy's girlfriend home with you. What was her name?" Logan points the microphone in Dick's direction.

"Gloria," the newlywed replies, before arching an eyebrow and adding, "Come on man, quit going easy on me. That was before I was even eighteen. Lets be _adult _about this."

Logan's whole face lights up, and he taps his finger against his chin in fake contemplation even though he's got a million stories on the tip of his tongue, "How about your twenty first birthday when you woke up with your head shaved and couldn't see out of your right eye for three days? Or that time you were convinced Veronica knew I was going to propose and that she was following you to get answers? And you chased a random blonde around a parking garage and she got a restraining order-"

"Her name was Christy and I maintain she was stalking me," Dick defends into the microphone. The whole wedding party is practically in tears, the rest of the ballroom split between joining in genuinely or nervously.

"We've had some good times huh?" Logan asks and Dick raises his glass, knocking it against Logan's and nodding his head, "I mean I've known you since you were like eight. We were friends even for that dark year in middle school, when you had to wear your head gear to school." This is the first reference Dick looks even vaguely embarrassed about, "I can honestly say, excluding that time you walked in on me while I was in the shower, I have never seen you happier."

Dick guffaws and slaps the table while Logan steps around him to look at his new bride, "All joking aside, I have to say thanks. Mac there were some years there where I was worried, and Dick will probably agree it could have gone either way. Trying to change your perception of him is honestly the hardest I have ever seen him work for something. He wanted you in his life and believe me, after nearly two decades of wishing the exact opposite it's a bizarre feeling. And ultimately you accomplished the impossible. You helped the semi alcoholic Peter Pan of Neptune High grow up. And for that you're my hero. So thanks Mrs. Casablancas, and Dick, I guess we'll always have Vegas." Logan toasts the couple and Mac, who's in tears by the end of the speech, stands to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

After Logan's done Veronica rises to make her own speech. She'd originally written one like Logan's minus the emotional ending. She didn't feel comfortable saying anything honest, given her proclivity for spur of the moment smart ass comments she was genuinely afraid she would say something mean to the groom and ruin the night. But now, her mind goes blank and the words flood in, none of them smart, all of them emotional.

"Now that Logan's done seducing the bride I guess it's my turn," she grips the microphone with both hands and stares out into the crowd with a wolfish grin. She receives a ripple of laughter and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear as she continues, "Ok so, if you told me ten years ago I would be watching Mac and Dick get married I would have laughed in your face. And it was lost on no one that even a week ago I was still skeptical. How can two people who are opposite in so many ways possibly spend their lives living with those differences? Mac's beautiful, smart, she loves learning new things and getting lost in a good book. And Dick," she pauses for effect and the blonde groom is the first one to laugh, "well he likes sports and videogames and participating in events where they make you sign waivers so your family can't sue if you die. They differ on big issues and small ones, and most of the time if you're on the outside you don't understand. But then you, or more specifically I, look closer and catch them in a moment. The way he looks up and smiles when she walks into a room. The way she laughs when he whispers a joke in her ear. It's those little things. They pass in a second. But they tell you the most about Mac and Dick's relationship. He cooks, she cleans. He talks her into jumping off buildings and she teaches him how to use his iPad for something other then Angry Birds. He makes her feel safe and she makes him feel loved. If you pay attention you'll see what you didn't get in the beginning, their differences are the best part. Being similar would ruin them. And what's even worse is that it would be boring. They're a balancing act, and every day they have to work to figure it out, but it's worth it in the end," her voice dips low, and she blinks a few times, refusing to let her eyes position on the person they want to, the person that's staring at her with his mouth half open, "To find that somebody who makes you feel like a complete person whenever they're standing next to you. That feeling doesn't come to everyone, and it's once in a lifetime." She trails off, ending her speech abruptly with a raised glass, "So here's to Mac and Dick."

Mac, who'd expected to either be laughing or uncomfortable during her maid of honor's speech, stands again. She's ashamed that's she's now verging on full bridal hysterics. Dick follows a moment later. He leans around his bride to kiss her blonde best friend on the cheek. "Really," Veronica asks at the weight of his hand on her shoulder and his breath on her cheek. This is quite possibly the closest she and Dick have been ever. Excluding that time she maybe made out without him in her GHB stupor.

"You earned it," Dick shrugs, smirking to try and hide the emotion under the surface. He and Mac stand next to each other, between them only their interlaced hands. It's a point of pride, his wife. That someone so beautiful and intelligent and just fucking cool fell for someone like him. He forgets that he provides anything at all to the equation. Mac had told him all the reasons why just an hour ago, and now Veronica, the last person he'd expected it from, had summed it up perfectly as well.

She grabs his wrist as he pulls away from her and squeezes once, just enough to make him look into her eyes. "So did you," she agrees and Dick hesitates for just a second before giving her an exaggerated wink and sitting back down.

Mac takes the opportunity to throw both her arms around Veronica's shoulders. "I'm staying here until I stop crying okay?" she whispers into her friend's shoulder, "I'm not depressing people at my own wedding."

"Finally sinking in you willing tied yourself to Big Dick Junior," Veronica whispers back, succeeding only in making Mac laugh and cry at the same time. "Stay as long as you need," Veronica adds, resting her chin on her best friend's shoulder.

She relaxes, and that's when it happens. She focuses on Logan and he focuses on her. Him half turned in his seat just finished talking to Dick and her in Mac's arms. It's stupid, this urgency she feels, this overwhelming need to be understood immediately. She's gone years without speaking to him, but suddenly she just can't say enough. It's not the time. God it's never the time. She closes her eyes and he clenches his jaw.

* * *

><p><em>Mac's a hysterical drunk. Not very coordinated but she makes up for it in inappropriate comments and the looks she keeps shooting him across the table. Plus she's downing her share of the tequila shots like a pro.<em>

_It's the first time he's ever seen like this. In the last eight weeks they've been spending a lot time together, but mostly alone. For some reason he doesn't like to share her, and if he's honest there's more then a little part of him that worried it would all fall apart in public. He played the whole thing confident, picked her up just like any other Friday night._

_But he was expecting to get blown off. Veronica was going to be at the bar and she hadn't exactly hidden her thoughts about their relationship. Her recent engagement, which they were all celebrating tonight, had done nothing to temper her blatant skepticism. He was going to say something bad and Mac would blush or clam up on him and start avoiding his calls. His strategy going into the night was to just keep his fucking mouth shut. _

_She must have noticed something was off on the drive over. Maybe he was talking too fast or not enough. Hell maybe she was nervous too. But just as they were about to walk into the bar she brushed her shoulder against his and laced their fingers together. Which never happens. Mac isn't a big PDA person. When she touches or kisses him it's in private. Which he's fine with. More then fine with actually. _

_But he likes this too, likes that she smiles, squeezes his hand, and then pulls him into the crowded bar. Likes the message it sends and the way it makes him feel. The anxiety melts away almost immediately. _

_She's been great all night since and he likes to think he has too. He and Veronica are doing the awkward polite thing they always attempt in front of Logan and he and Wallace are getting on better and better terms. But the night doesn't take a turn for the awesome until she makes him dance with her five shots deep. _

_She is terrible at it. Like really just the definition of a spazz. None of her moves match the beat of the song and eventually she's just shaking her hips and waving her hands back and forth. She must know she's terrible, because she keeps sticking her tongue out at him. The best part is it doesn't bother him at all. He just tries to keep up and maintain a straight face. _

_Eventually she gets bored and thirsty and drags him back to their friends. There she continues to provide drunken amusement by being predictably bad at pool and surprisingly good at catching bar nuts in her mouth. Sometime after catching her as she nearly falls off her barstool and before he crushes her at darts Logan shoots him a look. The same look Dick's been giving his best friend since he started following a certain blonde around. It's the 'what are you getting yourself into' look. The 'you are so fucked' look. The 'get out while there's still time' look. And Dick finally understands why Logan has always scowled silently in reply. It's because there's really no time left. He's fucked and fine with it. _

_They fall into the cab at last call, the car abandoned down the street because of their twin states of inebriation. His arm is over her shoulder and he would do anything to be kissing her right now. Their first kiss has set the tone for the last two months though. He lets her take the lead when it comes to physical contact. Which is sparse at best and bordering on the friend zone at worst. He's gotten her pants off exactly one time and Parker interrupted them about a minute later. Sometimes it's so clear she likes him, and others she borders on aloof. He's getting better at reading her but it's definitely slow going. And he's afraid to push because it would kill him if he tried something and she looked at him the way she did the first time he tried to kiss her. _

_It's the same reason he hasn't asked her to be his girlfriend, even though it's been on the tip of his tongue for forever. He's not seeing anyone else, has been painfully, exclusively celibate since their first date. Sometimes he worries she might still be seeing other people, but he's not going to fucking ask a question he doesn't want the answer to. He was telling the truth when he said he just wanted to be around her. It's not his fault that being around her has made him want a lot more. _

_He decides to go for it. Last time he did it worked out better then he ever imagined. So he uses his free hand to tilt up her chin. She blinks up at him blankly, then gets this little smile on her face. "Finally," she whispers as he dips his head to press his lips to hers. _

_And then apparently it's on, because Mac knots one hand in his hair and wraps the other arm around his neck. By the time the cab driver is pulling up to her apartment she's in his lap with her hand down the back of his shirt. He's going to cry. Really when she pulls away and a wall of cold air hits him he actually thinks he might. _

_But then, because she is perfect and merciful and just as hard up as he is, Mac laces their fingers together for the second time that night and pulls him out of the cab with her. He considers throwing his wallet at their driver, just to cut down on time, ends emptying the contents on the passenger seat and waving the guy off. _

_Then he turns. At some point during the drive he'd pulled her hair out of its ponytail, and now it pools around her shoulders. The dress she's wearing is black and off the shoulder, short and hot as hell. They stand there on the sidewalk and size each other up until he takes a step forward and she reaches for him at the same time. She doesn't see it coming, when he grins mischievously, sidesteps her hand and lifts her up around her waist. She probably should have predicted he'd make her laugh before he made her moan. His propensity to put her at ease by being unpredictably funny was one of her favorite things about him. _

_He'd wanted to wake up earlier then her. Really he'd thought about it and everything. Last night had been fantastic and all those other great adjectives. She'd fallen asleep lying on top of him like a blanket and he may or may not have said out loud something embarrassing like he could sleep like this for the rest of his life. He'd wanted to wake up and buy her that weird coffee shit she liked. A nice 'thanks for letting me see you naked'. _

_But his body isn't conditioned for that. Logan is always the one who drags his ass out of bed in the morning for surfing. His internal clock is warped thanks to years of dicking around until three in the morning. So if given the opportunity it sleeps until noon no matter what he intends. _

_She's the one who wakes him up. Not intentionally. She just crawls back into bed with her coffee and textbook and he feels the bed shift. He reaches forward to rub her knee and then drags his head over to lay it in on her thigh, which is covered in a silk robe that feels perfect on his cheek. She runs her fingers absently through his hair and somehow this moment feels more intimate then anything that happened between them last night. _

_He wants to ask the question. Will you be my girlfriend? Will you just fucking like me as much I like you? Will you fall in love with me like I'm falling in love with you? But she makes it is easy to avoid. She hands him her coffee cup and he sits up to take a sip. They trade the cup back and forth until it's empty and then, remembering they're both still technically naked he sets to work on getting her out of that robe._

* * *

><p><em>7:30 pm Saturday September 8<em>

Dinner is served, and then trays upon trays of deserts are rolled in. Mac shoves half a piece of cake in Dick's face and laughs as he wipes it off himself and tries to put it on her. They kiss for the hundredth time, messy and silly and ridiculously, insanely in love. Mac throws her bouquet, and even though she glances back five times in an attempt to aim Veronica successfully dodges and Parker throws enough elbows to steal it. Mac's Dad spins her around the dance floor and Dick comically attempts to salsa with his stepmother. Veronica dances with her Dad, with Wallace and Piz and Dick. She's just about to make a beeline for the open bar when he catches her around the waist.

"Dance with me," it's not a question and she doesn't try to argue. She puts her arms around her his neck. They aren't in high school anymore, she's seen him naked, and neither of them feels the need for proximity. She rests her head on his shoulder and he pulls her close enough to feel the beat of her heart against his chest. They're not really dancing and neither care who notices.

Sometime, in the middle of the fourth or fifth song, she ruins it. She pulls back, "I really did mean it."

He sighs, reaching forward to push all that blonde hair out of her eyes, "I know."

"I can't let you go," she continues, and she really could care less if people are watching them stand still in the middle of the dance floor. If she doesn't say it now she never will, and they'll just keep going in the awful, exhausting routine that will kill them both, "It's taken me so long to realize, too long. And I don't know if I'll ever change Logan. I don't know if things like this will ever come naturally."

"What are you saying Veronica?" he thinks he understands. He thinks she's admitting what he already knows. There are things that can't be erased or forgotten, scars that don't fade even as time goes by.

"I don't want to pretend I can be something I'm not," she shrugs, she's tried to tell him this before and he'd broken up with her for it. But she'd rather be honest and know it then lie and have to live with it, "I'm stubborn, and cynical and I know I can be a-"

"-A pretty big bitch?" he finishes with a smirk that has no fire behind it. It's an observation not a taunt.

She sags against him, and the frustration in her voice is painstakingly clear, "I don't want to make you miserable Logan."

His mouth is a thin line, and he wants to tell her she's an idiot but something else has been bothering him all day and he might as well use it to change the subject, "Was your book about us?"

That perks her right up. She'd known telling him about the book would make it inevitable and that laying it in his lap was her Hail Mary pass. The only option she had left. "It didn't start out that way," she reasons, "It actually started because of Duncan."

He doesn't know what to do with that so he chooses to ignore it. If she wanted to be with Duncan she would be in South America, or Siberia, or wherever his wayward former best friend was at the moment. But she was here, with her arms wrapped around him, "Yes or no Veronica?"

"Yes," she says it quickly. The truth. She'd promised herself and him the truth. And the truth was she didn't realize writing that book would be her therapy. Her own warped way of working out ten years of her life, of dissecting the most important relationship she'd ever had. She hadn't intended to come here and use it as an apology. She hadn't planned on telling him about it at all because she didn't know she wanted to be forgiven. She was the worst kind of liar, because for so long she'd even managed to fool herself.

He nods to himself, coming to a decision. Pulling back he grabs her wrist, "Come with me."

They leave the ballroom, heading down the hallway and out the door. The hotel staff is folding up chairs and all the candles have been blown out. They pass without a word, only stopping as they approached the sand. Logan kneels to untie his shoes as Veronica watches, "Logan-"

"Shoes off," he commands, and she reluctantly bends. When he's done and she's still making an attempt at the first shoe he grows impatient, thinking she's stalling, "Veronica take off your shoes."

"These aren't dress shoes Logan they're death traps," she points out, throwing a glare as her balance falters and she stumbles to one side, "They have like seven straps."

He rolls his eyes and motions to the bench right behind her, "Sit." He kneels, going to work on her right heel while she finishes off the left. When they're both done he grabs her wrist and helps her up, "Okay lets go."

"Where?" she whispers conspiratorially as he basically drags her down the beach. When her feet hit wet sand she hisses, "Logan don't make me walk into the ocean."

He rolls his eyes again, spinning to face her, "Stand here." Her back is to the hotel while his is to the ocean, providing a view of both sides of the beach as well as the buildings lining it, "Okay so now, unless assassins with scuba diving equipment are after us we should be safe."

Veronica can't help but grin, "That's counting on your observational skills which we both know aren't-"

"Veronica," he interrupts louder then necessary. His fuse is shortening by the second and he can't keep doing this. When she visibly winces he softens, taking a step towards her so their close again, so she has to tip her head back to look at him. "Veronica," he repeats, and it's barely even a word. God this is torture.

"Logan-" she assumes she should speak again. There is so much she has left to say. That she actually wants to say.

"No I'll go," Logan shakes his head. He'd freaked out on her and she'd freaked out on him. They'd gone back and forth a million different times and now he gets to figure out his shit while she listens, "It's my turn. You said what I wanted, you gave me what I needed and I'll go."

So she falls silent. She looks up and waits because she can't keep making decisions for both of them. With nothing but the pounding of the waves in her ears she lets him take the lead for once.

**The next chapter will probably go the same way unless everybody absolutely hates the switching back and forth. Then there will be an epilogue with a time jump. God I can't believe how close we are to the end. **


	24. I Do Pt 2

**I wanted to get this out before Christmas but didn't quite make it. I hope the length of the final chapter makes up for it! It's truly an epic.**

**Chapter 24**

I Do Pt. 2

_It's a mistake to call her. He knows as soon as he hangs up. Just like it was a mistake to stay for another drink after Wallace and half the basketball team had left the bar. He'd hung around for a third beer with a few other guys who didn't feel like going home, then for a few whiskeys on the rocks by himself. Next thing he knows its one o'clock in the morning on a Wednesday and the bartender is asking for his keys. _

_Logan's somewhere in Europe and he'd rather set himself on fire then call Veronica 'who drinks on a weekday' Mars. Surveying his options makes him realize there are very people in the world who will even take his calls this late at night. So his last, and pretty much only, option is to phone Mac. When she answers he feels like an asshole instantly. Her voice is husky with sleep and he can just picture her messy hair and the way she's hugging her pillow. She says she'll come, but he knows she's pissed when she hangs up in the middle of his thank you. _

_She appears twenty minutes later in a ponytail and pajama shorts with pink panda bears on them. She sweet talks his keys from the bartender and then hands the guy a twenty for not letting him drive drunk. The guy not so subtlety checks out her ass as she walks away and the drunk guy that's taken up residence in his brain urges him to comment about his observation. Pick a fight, that'll impress her. _

_Fortunately the drunk guy's easily distracted and when Mac appears in front of him those thought's evaporate entirely. Her lips are swollen and he bends to catch them with his own, his hands coming to rest on her hips. She rolls her eyes, and pushes at his shoulder. "You smell like a distillery," she observes as she grabs his arm and pulls him upright. His head starts swimming and he stumbles, she compensates by wrapping an arm around his waist. _

_That's all the help he's getting though, and she doesn't say a word as she guides him out of the bar and across the street. He tries valiantly to start up a conversation, but she doesn't seem to want to sing along to the newest Maroon Five song or discuss the ratio of hot to ugly Hearst cheerleaders. "Sorry," he appeals suddenly as she helps him into the passenger seat of her Volkswagen. _

_She nods before circling around to the driver's side and putting her keys into the ignition. "Is this that thing?" he slurs as she pulls out of her parking space, "Where you're mad but not yelling?"_

_"No," she sighs, pushing her bangs out of her eyes, "I'm just trying to pretend I'm still in bed Dick." _

_He gets it now, she's not mad she's disappointed. She's an adult and she expects him to be one too. Unlike every other girl he's dated Mac doesn't play games or whine. She has never asked him to buy her something other then a diet coke or a cocktail and she'd probably be way more pissed then placated if he tried to buy her off with something shiny. She has a range of emotions that far exceed the ones he's used to. He loves that about her, because it means he can actually talk to her about things, but it also means he's never quite sure how she's going to respond when he fucks up. _

_They only get a block before he decides to push his luck. He doesn't know why, even though he's never been happy like this in his life, he's also never been so miserable. Four months and they're still not an actual couple, four months and he hasn't brought up being official and neither has she. And, since he's currently tanked, he's decided tonight is the night that's going to change. _

_He glances over at her as she bites her lip and takes a left turn too hard. He's planned it out in his head and he wants to do it right. He has this whole speech about how he wants them to be exclusive and committed and all that other pussy shit, but he's drunk so what comes out is, "So are we allowed to fuck other people?"_

_He prays she didn't understand it. The second half was basically a slurred groan, but he figures she made it out given her next move. She slams on the breaks and he just barely avoids knocking his forehead into the dash. It must just be the reflex that stops his mouth from being a total asshole that's on the fritz, because his hands apparently work just fine. He doesn't know what he's expecting, maybe that he'll be walking the rest of the way home, but of course she doesn't react in anyway like he predicts. _

_She puts the car in park and turns towards him, her face blank as she asks with this small, fake smile, "Are you fucking other people Dick?"_

_Should he lie? Just to see what she'd say? Nope that's definitely a mistake. Mac pretty much has a zero tolerance policy for lies and she can smell his bullshit from a mile away. Plus he doesn't want to hurt her. The thought of her being with another guy _ever_ makes him sick to his stomach. The thought of it happening recently, while he was losing his mind over her, make his vision blur. He has to hope she feels the same way. "No," he breathes, and then he scrutinizes her features. Does she look guilty? "Are you?" _

_Her face doesn't change. Those blue eye staring at him, completely calm. They'd been spending a lot of time at the beach lately, and she has these pinpoint sized freckles sprinkled along the bridge of her nose. He'd give every penny he has to be able to read her mind. _

_Then she blinks, "No." She doesn't do that thing where she bites the side of her lip, like when she tells Veronica she's at the library when she's really in bed with him or tells her mom she can't go to her brother's dirt bike competition because she has class when really it's because she'd just as sooner eat glass, which means she's telling the truth. And that his heart can start fucking beating again._

_After a pause she adds, "Is that thing that thing where you're drunk and trying to pick a fight?"_

_"No," he scowls. _

_"Then ask me what you really want to ask me," she requests. What he really wants to do is touch her. Lately he's been all about getting close. They'll go to the beach with a bunch a people and he'll spend the day lying on a towel next to her as she reads even though he'd rather be out coasting the waves. He'll nap on a park bench for an hour so he can spend five minutes walking her to class. Or they'll go to dinner and he'll get pissed if the waiter lingers longer then a millisecond. No we don't want to hear the specials, go the fuck away. _

_He pretty much stalks her with her consent, and it's becoming more and more frustrating. He's wanted to be her boyfriend since before they even started dating, so he doesn't know why he cannot get the words out. Why as she looks at him, expectant, he can't even think straight. Oh wait, it might have something to do with the gallon of alcohol in his system. "In the four months that we've-" he waves his hands as he tries to classify their relationship and comes up short "I don't know whatever you think we're doing, have I ever done anything to fucking hurt you?"_

_"Not counting right now?" she replies, her eyes lowering for just a split second. Shit, even though he's drunk and clueless he can tell that's not a good sign. _

_He groans and reaches for her hand, misses and gets her wrist instead. He squeezes just the same, tilting his head and hoping his voice sounds sincere, "I'm not trying to hurt you." Fuck relationships. Fuck them because this is awful. He has never felt more exposed in his life, and he's been naked in public, "I just can't take this anymore Mac. I feel like you're afraid of me, or maybe it's the other way around. I just, I want this to be different then the way it is."_

_She looks up at him through her lashes, anger evaporated. That's the thing about Mac, honesty seems to be his get out of jail free card. If he doesn't try to bullshit her she takes him seriously. She listens even when he's not quite sure what he's trying to say or when he's too drunk to string two sentences together._

_"Then talk to me about it. Don't pretend everything's okay just because you're afraid to have an honest conversation," she prods, her eyebrows knitting together like he's a problem she needs to solve. _

_"I'm not afraid," he blanches, and that's the first lie he's told her all night. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find more words to explain, maybe to both of them how he's feeling. "You barely wanted to go out with me in the first place. You think I don't understand you're still barely interested?"_

_He swears the temperature in the car drops a few degrees and she pulls back two, almost imperceptible inches. She doesn't yank her wrist out of his grip, though. "What are you talking about?" she asks, "We're together constantly. I practically live at your apartment."_

_"Yeah but for how long?" he questions before he even knows he's going to. And there it is, his fear that this relationship has an expiration date. That she's going to slip through his fingers and go live an amazing life and he'll be alone and in love with her forever, the fear that he can't be what she needs, and that soon she'll see that. It's this fear that drives him to keep talking even though his heart has started to race, "I mean we're together at my place, but it's been four months and I haven't met any of your friends-"_

_"My friends are your friends," she points out, voice rising slightly. _

_"Or your parents," he adds, "I mean your Dad asked who was talking in the background last night and you said it was the TV." _

_"Seriously?" she mutters, and he sees something click into place behind her eyes._

_"I mean we're having sex every night," he continues, "You'd think by now, as the girl, you'd want to call me your boyfriend." It's the wrong thing to say, he knows immediately. Her eyes widen and she pulls her hand away, putting as much distance as she can between them in her tiny, death trap of a car. _

_"As the girl?" she scowls at him, "Do you hear yourself? Check your panties honey, because you're having a bitch fit based on the fact that we haven't defined our relationship and I didn't tell my Dad I was in a boy's bed at ten o'clock at night. I mean-" She stops midsentence, obviously realizing her words are getting away from her. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and when she opens them again she finishes softly, "You never asked me to be your girlfriend."_

_"And that doesn't upset you?" he questions, once again trying to read her face. She has to care. She calls to see how his day is going. She's let him map her body like it's a foreign country. She's even confided the details of the worst night of her life. The night his brother stole her clothes and tried to kill her best friend. It has to mean something to her, because it all means the fucking world to him. _

_"Is it supposed to?" she pushes her bangs out of her eyes, "Was I supposed to make a big deal about it so you didn't have to?"_

_"No," he says quickly, and when she flinches at the obvious lie he reconsiders, "I don't know maybe." He leans back against the seat and runs a hand over his forehead, suddenly exhausted, "I just feel like I have to keep pushing you into liking me. I borderline stalked you and now it's like everything's lopsided."_

_She stares at him for a long time, elbow resting on the steering wheel and chin in her palm. Finally she replies, "It's been four months. I'm not with anybody else. I haven't been. I'm sleeping in your bed and picking you up from bars at two in the morning. I'm having fights with you in this fucking car. I'm right here."_

_"This opinion you have me, it's not real. I'm not perfect, or even all that cool. And you're not the only one that's insecure in this relationship," she reaches forward and he laces his fingers through hers, "You're right in the months we've been together you've been great. But it's still not easy falling for the guy who used to fuck with everybody in high school." _

_He squints, a smile coming to his face for the first time that night, "Falling for?"_

_He squeezes her hand and she smiles too, rolling her eyes at him, "Really you're gonna tease me after I just admitted to being insecure?"_

_He shakes his head, "No I'm gonna kiss you." They meet in the middle, the car's shifter makes it a little hard to maneuver but they manage. He tastes like a distillery too, but given that she can feel his pounding heart through the material of her sweatshirt she figure he's earned it._

_She pulls away, resting her forehead against his, "I'm trusting you so can you please trust me too?"_

_"Wanna be my girlfriend?" he asks with a smirk. _

_"Yeah," she nods as she leans up to kiss him again._

* * *

><p><em>8:30 pm Saturday September 8<em>

The waves roar in her ears as Logan drags a hand over his face, "I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. You shouldn't have lied Veronica, but I should have handled it better," he nods to himself, and she can see how hard he's trying to stop from jumping out of his skin, "We should handle everything better. And fuck I thought it would get easier with time. I always think we can get over it. That eventually we'll fall out of love with each other or at least stop feeling this, this pull to be together even when it hurts. But you're here and I'm here and you wrote that fucking book and I still feel the same way I always have."

She opens her mouth but he keeps going, like he's been waiting to say all this and is relieved to have been given the excuse. "I know okay? We barely talked about it but I know that it's my fault. At least some of it is my fault. The way you are, the way you're hurt, I caused it. I put you in that room Veronica. I didn't think about what would happen to anyone that night. I didn't care and you will never-" he stops to suck in a labored breath, and she closes her eyes. There are a lot of nights that she has to lock up in boxes and refuse to recognize as actual pieces of her life. It took two years to find out what really happened the night she was drugged and raped, and so far she's spent the rest of her life trying to forget it, "It will never be okay. Duncan, Beaver, Jesus Veronica I can barely think about it."

"It's Lily, it's your mom, but it's mostly what happened," he blinks, and decides to move on in a less frantic tone. He can't say rape. He can't even bring himself to think it, but the word hangs between them like a weight. God he's wanted to say this. This week has probably been one of the worst of his life, but at least its forced he and Veronica to say the things that have been on the tips of their tongues since high school, "The reason you don't trust people and the reason you don't trust me. You're strong, I know that, but you're also scared. You run away and you don't say what you should. You leave me before I can leave you and you pretend I'm still that guy in high school so you can feel better about it. I'm sorry for what I did to you when I was sixteen and the lies I told you until I was nineteen. You're the only person in my life I've ever really been afraid of disappointing."

He reaches forward to circle one of her wrists with his hand and she looks up at him with wide eyes, "You don't make me miserable Veronica. I love you. In an insane, unconditional, kill and be killed for you kind of way. But I can't be in this alone. I can't keep letting you get away with it because I don't forgive myself for something that happened ten years ago."

"You should," she sighs, reaching forward to fidget with his tie, "I forgive you."

"No you don't," he scoffs with a roll of his eyes. Or maybe she has, but she definitely hasn't forgotten. Veronica wears her pain like a suit of armor and nothing that can hurt her is allowed in or out anymore.

"For a crime you were only indirectly involved in and still can't talk about without looking like you're going to cry? I can. I told you I did." She reminds him in what she hopes is a genuine sounding tone. She means it she really does, "And you're not that person anymore. Can't you see that? You spent months and almost millions trying to protect me this year alone-"

"And still somehow managed to get us both held at gunpoint," he winces when he adds, "Twice."

"But you_ tried,_" she insists, and it's suddenly very important that Logan knows she thinks he's a good person. That _he_ thinks he's a good person,_ "_You try for so many people now and so many people love you. I'm sorry that happened in spite of me instead of because of me."

She glances down. She doesn't know how she became the villain in this relationship, with Logan as her victim. She's so used to being righteous that she's not even sure what it feels like to be sorry anymore, to feel bad about the things she's done instead of scrambling to justify everything in her head.

"Are you blind?" Logan asks wryly, lips forming a self deprecating smirk, "Because you'd have to be not to see that the trajectory of my life only started heading upwards once you and I stopped dicking around and got together for real."

"If you'd listened to me you never would have become an actor in the first place," she points out, because she had been vocally skeptical even though she recognized how good he was. Even though she could tell instantly that he loved it she had still tried to talk him out of it, her rational side always winning out. She used to be able to take leaps of faith. She used to be impulsive and brave, the kind of girl that would kiss a boy she pretended to hate on a hotel balcony. When did she lose that part of herself? When Aaron Echolls tried to burn her alive or when Cassidy Cassablancas held her at gunpoint on the roof of the Neptune Grand? Or was it slower then that, was she poisoned by the steady stream or liars and philanders she stubbornly sought out?

The book had been brave. The bravest thing she's done in years and she hadn't even been trying. She doesn't know why it's so easy to say it all in make believe or, if she's honest, she does. In print she can predict the outcome, she can make her characters do whatever she wants. Logan is his own volatile, endearing, and opinionated person and she has never been able to analyze him. His love for her, its purity and endurance, has always been a mystery and because of that she's never been able to fully trust it. For all her confidence she's not sure why he still wants her after all she's done to ensure the opposite.

She sighs, "You have no idea how jealous I am of you. Of how you can just say what's in your head. Even after everything that's happened you can still give pieces of yourself away. I'm so sick of being scared and of trying to make you scared too. If I could change one thing about myself that would be it."

He glances down, his grip still firm on her wrist. Like he's afraid she'll take off running if he can't keep his hold. The implication of that bothers her, and she goes from fiddling with his tie to holding it in her fist. He studies her hand, the tiny bones of her fingers and the whites of her knuckles. He looks at that for a long time before he can bring himself to look into her eyes again, "I don't want you to change. And I don't want you to be like me. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I just need you to stay. Even when we fight. Even when it's hard for you and all your fucked up instincts are telling you to cut your losses."

She swallows hard and he bows his head so his forehead is resting against hers, "Can you do that Veronica?"

* * *

><p><em>"Thanks for coming," Mac whispers in his ear as he wraps his arms around her waist and presses her into the grass.<em>

_"I haven't yet," he grins into her neck. _

_"Be serious for ten seconds and I'll make sure you do," she replies, pushing on his shoulders so he's leaning over her. She smiles up at him from her spot on the hill they're hiding out on as she reaches up the to push his hair out of his eyes, "Even though you said a million times Cassablancas aren't meant for the wilderness you still came camping."_

_"I may have overreacted," he shrugs, "I didn't know there was gonna be a cool RV or that you stash bottles of Jack in hollowed out trees like some sort of alcoholic Pocahontas." His eyes travel the length of her body, from her dark purple thermal that matches the tips of her hair to the pair of Timberland boots that match the ones he's wearing. They'd had to go shopping this weekend, once an in depth search of his closet revealed nothing but sandals and shredded chucks. It was made explicitly clear to him that the Mackenzie's hike, and that he should break in his boots sooner rather then later so he's pretty much been wearing them since the moment of purchase. He grins as he adds, "I definitely didn't know outdoor sex was on the table."_

_They'd been going camping since before she could remember, and by now she knows their site like the back of her hand. She found her hiding spot when she was in junior high, and as the years passed she'd graduated from hiding cool rocks she'd found during the trip to glass bottles of liquor to help her survive the trip. It wasn't the most sanitary of options, but it helped her get through a lot of trying family get togethers during her angsty teenage years. Although now she has a new distraction of choice and he's six feet tall and staring down at her like she's the most amusing thing in the world. _

_He leans down to kiss her again but she turns her head so his lips hit her cheek. "Can I tell you a secret?" she asks, her voice small. _

_"Can it wait?" he groans, his hands tensing at the spots where they're holding her hips. She turns her head back so they're face to face again, and one look at her wide eyes tells him this is serious, "Shit okay, what's the secret?" He flops down next to her in the grass, the only point of contact remaining is the arm trapped underneath her torso, and if he's going to pay attention to her story that's the way it has to be. _

_She looks up at the stars rather then looking over at him, and he's nervous but he's not sure why. She makes him wait, sitting there fidgeting in the grass as she prepares to tell him something she's never actually said out loud. Eventually he starts looking at the stars too, the liquor making him warm and drowsy. He almost doesn't hear it when she whispers, "I'm kind of adopted."_

_Almost. His head whips around, "Kind of?"_

_"When I was born there was a mix up at the hospital. Instead of Cindy Mackenzie I was supposed to be Madison Sinclair," she explains, still not looking anywhere but the Big Dipper. Maybe later, when he's regained rational thought, she'll see how many constellations he knows. She had them all memorized by the time was eight. Her Dad has this thing about stars. _

_"Are you saying you were actually-" he breaks off, rubbing his forehead as his mind goes a mile a minute. _

_"I was switched at birth," she finishes his sentence and her smile at the absurdity of the statement is bittersweet, "And by the time they figured it out Madison and I were three and no one wanted to switch back." She finally hazards a glance in his direction. He's sitting up on his elbows and looking down at her with his eyebrows raised. As soon as he notices she's watching he neutralizes his expression. He's not exactly sure what to say in this situation. What's a nice thing to say to the girl your currently dating who was switched at birth with the girl you used to hate fuck in high school? _

_He decides, as usual, to go with what he's thinking which is, "Thank God." Her eyebrows furrow so he explains, "If you were Madison Sinclair we never would have ended up together. I would have blown all my chances in high school."_

_"You almost did that anyway," she smiles up at him wryly. _

_"You know this actually makes so much sense. Have you met Madison's younger sister?" he asks, and realizes his misstep when her face falls. _

_"Yes," she nods, her eyes turning towards the stars again. Would she trade a sister for her brother? For Ryan's easy smiles and wicked sense of humor? He fixes her car whenever it breaks down and he'd been the only one of her family to accept Dick right away. They go to baseball games now and Ryan's going to learn how to surf. Like her parents, like these stupid camping trips, she wouldn't trade her stupid little brother for the world. _

_He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. It's his turn to talk again, "When did your parents tell you?"_

_She bites her lip, "They haven't." He squints at her, confused and she shrugs when she explains, "I asked Veronica to look into my parents when we were in high school. That's what she turned up."_

_"Wow," he lets out a low whistle, "Are you ever going to tell them you know?"_

_"Maybe," she's not the only one who can spot a lie now and when his gaze remains level she cracks under the pressure, "Probably not."_

_He takes a second to think about it and to let her think about it before he moves back over her and tries to kiss the serious expression off her face. He pulls back only when she's breathless, her cold hand under his sweatshirt and spread across the small of his back. "Mac Mackenzie's pretty awesome," he observes as he brushes his thumb across the curve of her cheek. _

_"She is isn't she?" Mac smiles up at him, wistfulness gone. She is who she is and it can't have been that bad if it led her to this moment. To this boy and this feeling._

_"Why'd you tell me this?" he asks on impulse as his lips find that spot behind her ear that makes her squirm underneath him. _

_She debates using sex to distract him from the question. It wouldn't take much more effort, but so far he's been the one to make the leaps in their relationship. It's her turn. "Because I wanted you to be the first person I ever told," she answers, and then after a pause, "I love you."_

_He stills, pulling back to look into her eyes. His face finally splits into this goofy, blissed out grin, "I wanted to say it first."_

_"Too late," she shrugs, leaning on her elbows to kiss him. _

_She wraps an arm around his neck, drawing him down on top of her. "You know what I changed my mind. Mac Mackenzie's perfect," he whispers against her lips, and she laughs when instead of trying to take off her shirt he wraps his arms and legs around her and rolls them both down the hill. _

* * *

><p><em>8:45 pm Saturday September 8<em>

He looks so grave, like what he's just asked of her is hard. Like the lump in her throat is based on fear and not the overwhelming emotion of all they'd just revealed to each other. It's so ridiculous, the thought that she might leave him again, that she actually laughs, "That's it?"

Logan looks like he's not sure if he should be mad or amused by the sudden turn. She lets go of the death grip she has on his tie and throws her arm around his shoulders, laying her head on his chest, "That's easy."

"Well you've managed to make it look pretty hard over the years," he replies, but his hands circle her waist to help keep her in place.

"Not anymore, she whispers back, "I thought we were in for a few more months of yelling at least. Stay with you? I was already going to do that whether you wanted me to or not."

He sucks in a breath, "Are you-"

She stiffens in his grasp, "Please don't ask me if I'm sure." She pulls back slightly so she can look into his eyes, "You're not the only one who thought this would go away. I was so sure when I left that we would fall out of love with each other. That we could both just move on, and be done once and for all. I tried for _years_ to make myself stop. I may not be able to change parts of myself, but as long as you want me to stay, I'll stay with you."

She guesses this is how she should have felt when Logan proposed. That day she had felt like he was trying to tear their whole world apart, and now he feels like the only thing in their world worth holding onto. Her stomach is filled with butterflies but she's finally, actually sure of something. The wind picks up and threatens to send her blonde updo flying, but the three dozen pins that were shoved into her skull early this afternoon manage to hold firm.

"How does a few centuries sound," he smirks into her ear, "Just to start out with."

* * *

><p><em>She knew Veronica was going to leave. The FBI had made her an offer and even though she kept insisting she wasn't going to take it her lines grew less and less convincing every time she repeated them. Mac noticed, and the only reason Logan wasn't doing something about it was because Veronica refused to even tell him about the job offer.<em>

_By the time she admitted as much Wallace already had half of her stuff moved out of the apartment she shared with Logan. A week later Dick, Wallace, Mac, and Veronica graduated and two hours later Veronica fled the state, New York bound. Over the next month Mac and Dick had started working at two different offices and Logan had systematically imploded. _

_They're sleeping at Dick's new apartment tonight. He's been so busy that nothing's unpacked except the bedroom. But at least he doesn't share it with three other weirdoes like his last place. She's moving out of her apartment too since Parker's about to migrate to Chicago and she can't afford the rent on her own. _

_They'd talked about living together, had actually seriously considered it. It was what happened with Logan and Veronica that scared them off. They rushed into living together and getting engaged and now both of them were destroyed and angry. Mac and Dick had decided to go slow, it had been working for them so far. _

_The call comes in the middle of the night and Dick flails around in bed searching for the phone that is an inch away from his face. Logan's voice is barely comprehensible, so slurred its not even English. Eventually Dick manages to ascertain that Logan's locked out of the apartment. Dick has the spare key. Perfect. _

_"Okay," Dick interrupts, rubbing his hand across his face, "Okay yeah I'm on my way."_

_Next to him the warm, beautiful, half naked body shifts. Mac's hair is short this month, a bob that frames her face and is streaked with turquoise. It's a mess now, the layers flying everywhere. Her lips are swollen and she swipes at the line of drool that curves around her chin. "What's wrong," she asks, her head falling on his chest and her arm wrapping around his waist. _

_"Nothing," he sighs, trying and failing to suppress a yawn, "Go back to sleep babe."_

_"Is it Logan?" she guesses and his silence tells her she's correct. She lets go of him. Crawling towards the edge of the bed she locates her sweatpants and pulls them on. Running a hand through her hair she turns to look at him, "Okay lets go."_

_They're both worried about Logan. Dick has been over at his place practically everyday since Veronica bolted but he can't keep an eye on him constantly. Plus there's Logan's natural propensity for getting into trouble and his seemingly endless supply of disposable income. This isn't the first phone call Dick's gotten in the middle of the night. _

_Mac holds his hand during the drive. She's so tired she's practically sleeping with her eyes open but she keeps asking if he's okay. No he's not fucking okay. He's exhausted and pissed and he'd like to strangle Veronica Mars, but he can't tell her that. Especially not when she's basically being the most understanding girlfriend on the planet. _

_They hear Logan before they see him, his snoring penetrating even the steel doors of the elevator. "Jesus," Dick groans, kicking off the wall they'd been leaning against and pulling Mac along with him. Logan is spread eagle on the hallway floor, passed out. Mac unlocks the door while Dick kneels by his friend's face and tries to wake him. _

_Logan is not in a good mood. He refuses Dick's arm and stumbles his way past Mac into the apartment. He slurs an explanation, the only comprehensible word being Veronica and tries to make his way into the kitchen. He stumbles again and Dick moves to help him but Mac gets there first. _

_"Come on Logan," she whispers, reaching up to push his hair out of his face, "Lets get you to bed."_

_Logan tries to argue but Mac ignores him and steers him towards the bedroom. The place is a mess, bottles and cans and half eaten sandwiches are everywhere. It looks like Maria hasn't been up there cleaning in a few days. Dick inspects the room for a few moments before heading into the kitchen to grab a garbage bag. As he passes back by the bedroom he hears Mac whispering. _

_Logan's lying on the bed and Mac's bent over him, her hand cupping his cheek, "It doesn't mean she didn't love you Logan. It doesn't mean that at all. It means she's scared, it means she's not ready, and it means it's a good thing you two didn't get married. You don't want someone who's not ready. And you deserve someone who will be brave for you. It doesn't take just love Logan, because if that was enough Veronica would still be here."_

_Logan says something back and Mac shakes her head. She leans down and kisses his cheek before standing. She gives Dick a small smile and flips off the light to Logan's bedroom. She takes the trash bag out of Dick's hands and heads for the living room. Dick stays in the doorway a few more seconds before mumbling a "good night man" and heading after his girlfriend._

_She's already got half the shit picked up, and while she's folding a blanket he bends over to grab the beer bottles underneath the coffee table. "We should stay here tonight," Mac observes as she sets the blanket on the leather couch, "No point in driving home when there's a spare bedroom. Maybe I'll even call in sick tomorrow, Logan might need-"_

_"We should live together," he interrupts, holding the trash bag in one hand as he looks at her. She opens her mouth but he keeps talking, "We psyched ourselves out, but I'm not Logan and you're definitely not Veronica. I'm not scared," he swallows hard, "Are you?"_

_She glances down at the blanket in her hands, but looks back up only a second later. "No," she answers, and she smiles again, "But Dick it's late, and I sign my lease tomorrow-"_

_"I'm not gonna change my mind," he crosses the room and wraps his arms around her waist, "You moving in with me doesn't mean we have to get married. It just means we love each other and we're brave. It means that I want you next to me every night and that I want all of our shit to intersect. I want us to be together that way. I'm ready for that." _

_She slides her hands around his shoulders. Not for the first time realizing just how lucky they are. "Okay," she answers, standing up on her tiptoes so she can kiss him, "We should live together. That sounds-"_

_"Fucking awesome," he finishes against her lips._

_"Fucking awesome," she repeats with a laugh._

* * *

><p><em>8:47 pm Saturday September 8<em>

The song is slow, and they're barely moving at all in the middle of the dance floor. Time is ticking away and everybody is getting a lot drunk. Dick is draped around her like a blanket, his chin rests on top of her head and his hands are clasped together at the small of her back. She couldn't conjure up a more perfect moment if she tried. "We made it," she whispers the revelation into his chest. She tilts her head up so she can look into his eyes, "Was it as perfect as you hoped it would be?"

He grins lazily and shrugs. As usual she had been right, they had both shown up and that was all that mattered. The rest, the toasts and the cake and the way she keeps looking at him, is all just extra. "I keep thinking I'm going to wake up," he replies, kissing her temple, "Pinch me again will you?"

"Stop it," she blanches, smile dropping from her face as she pushes on his shoulder, "You're the reason any of this happened at all. If anybody should believe what's happening right now it's you since your pretty much led me by the nose to this day."

"Worth it," he smirks, pushing a piece of stray hair behind her ear.

"I'm lucky you thought so," she replies, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth.

"We're both lucky," he counters when they separate.

"And happy," she grins.

"And married," he emphasizes, his eyebrows rising dramatically as he spins her across the floor. "And we made it look a lot easier then certain people," he whispers into her ear as she clings to him, dizzy and laughing.

"What is it that Logan said to Veronica- something about songs and easy endings-" she jokes, poking him in the hip when he tries to dip her.

He rolls his eyes at her, answering with a scoff, "If you really want a song I'll write you one, because I'll take an easy ending over a decade of misery any fucking day."

A moment later she rolls her eyes at him. Taking his hand she leads him to one of the huge windows in the reception hall. In the distance Veronica and Logan are visible. They have their arms around each other, hugging or kissing neither Mac nor Dick can tell. "Do they look miserable to you?" she looks up at her husband with a smile, "Some people just take a little longer to catch up."

"I love that marrying you makes me look like the emotionally stable one," he muses with a smirk. Glancing out the window again he sees Logan's arms wrap around Veronica waist, a second later he takes a step towards the water, "Is he? No way."

"Are they trying to drown each other?" Mac asks as she squints at the figures through the glass, "Dick we should probably-"

Before she can finish her thought Dick has left her side, heading for the nearest exit. She's not far behind him, hopping on one foot in an effort to get off her shoes. Those two crazies just can't seem to get it together can they?

"Man I know everyone gets the urge but murder is never the answer," Dick shouts as he reaches the waves. Logan seems to have the upper hand, his arms still wrapped around Veronica's waist. He's spinning her around. Wait are her fingers sliding into the loops of his belt? Is that- oh yep that's what kissing looks like, "You have got to be kidding."

Logan pulls away from Veronica just enough so that he can tilt his head toward Dick, "What are you screaming about?"

"This is a happy thing, not a cold blooded killer thing," Disk groans, rubbing his forehead as he tries to catch his breathe. He's surprised he hasn't had a heart attack this week he really is.

Mac finally reaches them, and if possible she looks even more ridiculous then her husband, her veil disheveled for what feels like the fiftieth time that night. "What's going on," she pants.

Veronica lifts her head from the spot on Logan's shoulder where its been resting. She squints over at Mac and then up at Logan, who looks just as confused. "Logan and I are back together," she explains, "Are you two okay?"

Mac runs a hand through her hair, pushing her veil back where it belongs. "We're fine," she decides, glancing at a still out of breath Dick before crossing her arms over chest and staring over at her maid of honor, "Do you know how much your dress cost?"

Veronica glances down at her ruined dress before smirking back up at her best friend. Using her grip on Logan as leverage she kicks her leg up in a lame effort to splash the two newlyweds, "You should come in, the water's great."

Dick glances at his wife sheepishly, "It does look like fun."

"I'm in my wedding dress," she reminds him, her tone appalled. But then she looks back at her grinning friends and a moment later grabs her husband hand. A few minutes later the wedding photographer gets Mac's favorite shot of her wedding night. All four of them laughing and wrapped around each other as the waves roll in at their feet. Together and happy, a perfect moment caught in time.

* * *

><p><em>9:30 pm Saturday September 8<em>

"You know the last time I went skinny dipping?" she asks him. They've just gotten out of the shower. She's in a robe trying to tame her hair into something manageable and Logan's lying on the bed with just a towel around his waist.

"In my dreams?" he replies, his voice low and lazy, his eyes feeling heavy. He wants nothing more then to fall asleep on this bed next to the girl currently fidgeting in the bathroom mirror.

"The first Homecoming without Lily," she smiles at the memory, at the silliness and bravery that was characteristic of her best friend, "I was wearing red then too."

"It's definitely your color," he observes from his spot on the bed. He can hear her pacing across the floor. When he finally decides to sit up on his elbows and check her progress he sees her studying herself in the mirror, her fingers playing with the ends of her hair, "Have I told you I like the blonde? Because, really," he lets out a whistle, "Hot."

She grins as she glances at him over her shoulder, "Is it going to reflect badly on the bride if I go back down to the reception in jeans?"

He taps his chin in mock contemplation, "We said our speeches, you wore heels and I put on a tie. I say we've fulfilled our formal portion of the evening." He falls back on the bed, adding, "We left our shoes by the sand anyway."

"Jeans it is," she shrugs. She goes to the dresser and pulls on her pants. Then she throws on the nicest shirt she brought, a pink T with a pin up girl on the front. All class. Once dressed she heads over to Logan, standing over him she asks, "Are you planning on putting clothes on?"

"I thought I'd go down in the robe," he replies, tucking his hands behind his head, "Got to give the papers something to write about."

She rolls her eyes and heads towards her suitcase, "I think I have a pair of your sweatpants in my bag, and I know I have one of your shirts." She can practically hear his eyebrows rise at the implication. She's sure he noticed she took half his wardrobe when she fled the state. She turns around and shrugs, "I got used to sleeping in your stuff."

"Here they are," she announces when she locates the pants at the bottom of her bag. Carrying them over to the bed she falls alongside Logan on the bed, "You should wear something under the robe, so you don't give the papers _too_ much to write about."

"Aw," he replies, hand coming up to brush across her cheek, "looking out for my virtue?"

"What virtue?" she snorts, crossing the distance between them to kiss him. His hands tangle in her hair and he turns them so she's pulled across his chest. She pulls away eventually with a silly grin, "Put the pants on, I'm ready to go."

He wants to argue, say they should just spend the rest of the night in bed, but since they've already corrupted the bride and ruined half the wedding party's outfits as Wallace and Parker had eventually joined them in the ocean they should probably be polite and make a second appearance. He rolls of the bed to pull on his sweats and the T shirt Veronica's been keeping warm for him for the last five years. She appears from the bathroom a second later, the only difference to her appearance the red lipstick she's put on. She smiles up at him, holding out her hand, "Are you ready?"

"Born ready," he replies as he laces their fingers together.

**Epilogue to come, please share your thoughts!**


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